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THE 

REMARKABLE ADVENTURES 

OF 

CELEBRATED PERSONS, 

EMBRACING 

THE ROMANTIC INCIDENTS AND ADVENTURES IN THE LIVES 
OF SOVEREIGNS, QUEENS, GENERALS, PRINCES, TRAVEL- 
LERS, WARRIORS, ADVENTURERS, VOYAGERS, ETC., 
EMINENT IN THE HISTORY OF 

EUROPE AND AMERICA. 

BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED, 

COMPILED FROM VARIOUS SOURCES. 



NEW-YORK: 

PUBLISHED BY ROBERT SEARS, 

18 1 WILLIAM STREET. 

1856. 



X 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by 
ROBERT SEARS, 
the Clerk's Office, of the District Court of the Southern District of 
New- York. 






Stereotyped by Bell & Russell, 13 Spruec-st 



"9 a 



\ "^ 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



ROBERT BRUCE AND SIR HENRY DE BOHUN. 

THE OATH OF THE THREE SWISS. 

VIEW OF ORLEANS. 

MONUMENT TO JOAN OF ARC, . 

VIEW OF TEWKESBURY. . 

MURDER OF THE EARL OF RUTLAND. . 

BURIAL OF DE SOTO. 

LOCH-LEVEN CASTLE. 

ELIZABETH'S TOWER, CARISBROOKE CASTLE. 

ROUND 

VIEW OF ROUEN. . . 

VIEW OF BORDEAUX, PRESENT STATE. 

THE SORTIE. . . 

HOLYROOD PALACE. 

VIEW OF EDINBURGH. 

MARION ENFORCING DISCIPLINE. 

NAPOLEON HARANGUING HIS TROOPS. 

EXECUTION OF MARSHAL NEY. 

LOUIS PHILLIPPE AT VENDOME. 



Page- 
Frontispiece 
29 
63 
63 
71 
71 
99 
113 
. 127 
127 
. 157 
157 
. 175 
207 
207 
285 
. 359 
375 
. 401 



PREFACE 



History is one of the most important studies thac can 
occupy the attention of the student. But the field is vast 
and its pursuit laborious. Profound attention, close study, 
and patient thought, are necessary to an elucidation of its 
many mysteries. A comprehension of the vast chain of 
events that link era on era, and epoch on epoch, from the 
dim past to the present ; a knowledge of those events, as pro- 
duced from diverse causes ; an intelligent conception of their 
effects — are only to be attained by the patient student. A 
study so vast and difficult, therefore, needs some incentive. 
Such an office this volume is intended to fill. By culling 
from history some of its most romantic and attractive features, 
and by presenting fragmentary sketches of those characters, 
which either by their sufferings enlist the sympathy, or by 
their exploits, command the admiration of the world, the 



PREFACE. 



editor trusts that he has providel a work which will prove 
acceptable to the reader, and which may serve to promote a 
taste for the pursuit of so sublime a study. This is the simple 
hope of the editor. His work is nothing more than a sheaf, 
gathered from many fields, whose flavor may induce the par- 
taker to reap and garner up for himself. 

It is designed to make this but the first of a series which 
shall embody, collectively, all the mo3t salient and attractive 
features of history. The degree of favor, therefore, with 
which this is received, will decide as to the pursuance of that 
design. 

New-York^ January, 1852. 



CONTENTS. 



RICHARD CGEUR DE LION. 

MATILDA, DAUGHTER OF HENRY 1ST OF ENGLAND. 

WILLIAM TELL. . • • 

WALLACE. . 

ROBERT BRUCE AND HIS ADHERENTS. 

SIR JAMES DOUGLASS. . 

RANDOLPH, EARL OF MORAY. 
EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE. 
JOAN OF ARC. 
MARGARET OF ANJOU. 
COLUMBUS. . 

BALBOA'S DISCOVERY OF THE PACIFIC. . 
SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 
HERNANDO DE SOTO. 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
MARY, aUEEN OF SCOTS. 

DARNLEY. . 

RIZZIO. . 

BOTHWELL. 
GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS, KING OF SWEDEN. 
COUNTESS OF PORTLAND. . 
CHARLES I. , 

HENRIETTA, Q.UEEN TO CHARLES I. 
LADY MORTON. . 
COUNTESS OF DERBY. 



Page. 
11 
19 
25 
39 
43 



53 

53 
66 
77 
82 
85 
90 
102 
110 



119 
125 
125 
132 
139 
140 



CONTKNTS. 



CHARLES THE SECOND. . 

JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH. 

LOUIS, PRINCE OF CONDE. 

PRINCESS OF CONDE. 
DUCHESS DE LONGUEVILLE. 

CHARLES THE TWELFTH OF SWEDEN. . 

PRINCE JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

WILLIAM MAXWELL, EARL OF NITHISDALE. 

CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

FREDERICK THE GREAT. . 

CAPTAIN COOK. 

WASHINGTON. 

ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

ETHAN ALLEN. 

MAJOR GENERAL STARK. 

MAJOR GENERAL CLINTON. 

COMMODORE PAUL JONES. 

COMMODORE RICHARD DALE 

FRANCIS MARION. 

LAFAYETTE. 

MARIA ANTOINETTE. 

MUNGO PARK. 

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 

MARSHAL NEY. 

MARSHAL LANNES. . 

MARSHAL MURAT. 

STEPHEN DECATUR. . 

LOUIS PHILI JPPE. 



145 
161 



1G7 
197 
198 
203 
221 
228 
235 
241 
249 
254 
257 
259 
237 
271 
289 
309 
333 
351 
3G8 
377 
381 
390 
399 



REMARKABLE ADVENTURES 

OF 

CELEBRATED PERSONS- 



RICHARD CCEUR DE LION. 

The exploits of Richard 1st of England, by common consent tv. « 
corded the name of the Lion Heart, have always been placed among 
the marvellous in history. The editor selects some passages from 
the Pictorial History of England, and from other authorities, illustra- 
tive of his career, commencing at a period in the crusades, when, after 
frequent encounters with the renowned Saladin, he departed from 
Acre for Jerusalem. 

Thirty thousand men, of all countries obeyed his orders, marching 
in five divisions : the Templars led the van; the Knights of St. John 
brought up the rear. Every night, when the army halted, the 
heralds of the several camps cried aloud three times, " Save the holy 
Sepulchre!" and every soldier bent his knee, and said "Amen!" 
Saladin, who had been reinforced from all parts, infested their march 
every day, and encamped near them every night, with an army 
greatly superior in numbers. On the 7th of September, Richard 
brought him to a general action near Azotus, the Ashdod of the Bi- 
ble, on the sea shore, and about nine miles from Ascalon ; and after 
a display of valor, which was never surpassed, and of more cool con- 
duct and generalship than might have been expected, he gained a 
complete victory. Mourning the loss of seven thousand men and 
thirty-two emirs, Saladin, the victor of many a field, retreated in 
great disorder, finding time, however, to lay waste the country, and 
dismantle the towns he could not garrison or defend ; and Richard 



12 RICHARD CCEUR DE LION. 

advanced without further opposition to Jaffa, the Joppa of Scripture, 
of which he took possession. ASfthe country in advance of that po- 
sition was still clear of enemies, the Lion-heart would have followed 
up his advantages, but many of the crusaders, less hardy than him- 
self, were worn out by the heat of the climate and the rapid marches, 
on which he had already led them ; and the French barons urged the 
necessity of restoring the fortifications of Jaffa before they advanced. ' 
No sooner had Richard consented to this arrangement than the cru- 
saders, instead of prosecuting the work with vigor, abandoned them% 
selves to a luxurious ease ; and Richard himself gave many of his 
days to the sports of the field, disregarding the evident fact that 
Saladin was again making head, and that hordes of Saracens were 
scouring the country in detached parties. One day he was actually 
surprised, and would have lost either his life or liberty, had not one 
of his companions, William de Pratelles, a knight of Provence, cried 
out, '' I am the king," and, by drawing attention upon himself, given 
Richard the opportunity of escaping. On another occasion this 
generous daring threw him almost into an equal danger. A com- 
pany of Templars fell into an ambuscade : he sent the brave Earl of 
Leicester to their aid, promising he would follow as soon as he could 
get on his armor. Before that rather long operation was completed 
they told him the Templars and the earl were being crushed by the 
number of the enemy. Without waiting for any one, he leaped on 
his war-horse, and galloped to the spot, declaring he were unworthy 
the name of king, if he abandoned those whom he had promised to 
succor. He spurred into the thickest of the fight, and so laid about 
him, that the Earl of Leicester and all the Templars who had not 
fallen previously to his arrival were rescued. On such onslaughts, 
say the chroniclers, his cry was still " St. George, St. George." 
Many other adventures equally or more romantic are related of this 
flower of chivalry — this pearl of crusading princes. His battle-axe 
seems to have been the Aveapon most familiar to his stalworth arm. 
He had caused it to be forged by the best smiths in England before 
he departed for the East, and twenty pounds of steel were wrought 
into the head of it, that he might '■break therewith the Saracens' 
bones." Nothing, it was said, could resist this mighty axe, and 
wherever it fell, horseman and horse went to the ground. It ap- 
pears, indeed, after making every rational deduction from the exag- 



RICHARD CCEUR DE LION. 13 

geration of minstrels and chroniclers, that it was a fearful weapon, 
and that Richard's strength and valor were alike prodigious. When 
the fortifications of Jaffa were restored, the Lion-heart was duped 
into a further loss of time, by an affected negotiation artfully pro- 
posed by Saladin, and skilfully conducted by his brother Saphadin, 
who came and went between the two armies, and spite of his turban, 
ingratiated himself with Richard. At last, the crusaders set forth 
from Jaffa ; but it was now the month of November, and incessant 
rfeins nearly equal to those in tropical countries, wetted them to the 
skin, and rusted their arms, spoiled their provisions, and rendered the 
roads almost impassable. Crossing the plain of Sharon, where " the rose 
of Sharon, and the lily of the valley" no longer bloomed, they pitched 
their tents at Ramula, only fifteen miles in advance of Jaffa ; but the 
wind tore them up and rent them. They then sought quarters at 
Bethany, where they were within twelve miles of the holy city ; but 
their condition became daily worse — famine, disease, and desertion 
thinned their ranks, and Richard was compelled, sore against his 
will, to turn his back on Jerusalem. He retreated rapidly to Asca- 
lon, followed closely by the loose light cavalry of the Kourds and 
Turks, who, though they could make no impression on the main 
body, or even penetrate the rear guard, where the gallant knights of 
St. John wielded sword and lance, yet did much mischief by cutting 
off stragglers, and caused great distress by keeping the whole force 
constantly on the alert by night as well as by day. On the retreat, 
as during the advance, Richard was greatly indebted to the exertions 
of the brave Earl of Leicester, who covered one flank of the English 
army, the other being protected by the sea. 

The battle of Jaffa terminated Richard's splendid but unsuccessful 
career in Palestine. Early in June he encamped in the valley of He- 
bron, where he received some messengers from England bringing 
fresh accounts of plots within, and armed confederacies without his 
dominions. We follow the most consistent, though not the most 
generally received account, in saying that, on this intelligence, and at 
the prospect of the increasing power of the Saracens, (who had not 
only strongly fortified and garrisoned the holy city, but had thrown 
a tremendous force between it and his advanced post,) and of the 
increasing weakness and destitution of the Christian forces, to whose 
wants he could no longer administer, Richard now came to a stand, 



14 RICHARD CCEUR DE LION. 

trad turned his heart to the west. A council, assembled at his sug- 
gestion, declared that, under present circumstances, it would be bet- 
ter to march and besiege Cairo, whence Saladin drew his main sup- 
plies, than to attack Jerusalem. This decision was perhaps a wise 
one, but it came too late. Eichard, however, pretended that he 
would follow it, upon which the Duke of Burgundy wrote a song re- 
flecting in severe terms on his vascillation. Richard did not reply by 
despatching two emissaries of the Old Man of the Mountain, or by 
adopting any other violent measure : he revenged himself with the 
same instrument with which the offence had been given, and wrote 
a satire on the vices and foibles of the Duke of Burgundy. It could 
not be expected, however, that the Lion-heart should renounce his 
great enterprise without feelings of deep mortification. It is related 
of him that when a friend led him to the summit of a mountain 
which commanded a full view of Jerusalem, he raised his shield be- 
fore his eyes, declaring that he was not worthy to look upon the 
holy city, which he had not been able to. redeem. If the expedition 
to Egypt had ever been seriously contemplated, it was presently seen 
that it was impracticable ; for as soon as a countermarch from He- 
bron was spoken of, all discipline abandoned the camp, and after some 
conflicts among themselves, the mass of the French and Germans de- 
serted the standard altogether. Richard then fell back upon Acre. 
Taking advantage of the circumstances, the vigilant Saladin descend- 
ed from the mountains of Judea, and took the town of Jaffa, all but 
the citadel. At the first breath of this intelligence, Richard ordered 
such troops as he had been able to keep together to march by land, 
while he, with only seven vessels, should hasten by sea to the relief 
of Jaffa. On arriving in the road, he found the beach covered with 
a host of the enemy, but turning a deaf ear to the advice and fears 
of his companions, and shouting "Cursed for ever be he that follow- 
eth me not," he leaped into the water. The knights in the ships 
were too high-minded to abandon their king; and this small body 
dispersed the Saracens, and retook the town. On the following day, 
between night and morning, Saladin came up with the main body of 
his army ; and Richard, who had been joined by the troops that had 
marched by land, went out to meet him in the open country behind 
Jaffa. The Lion-heart made up for his immense inferiority in point 
of number, by careful and judicious arrangement; and the victory of 



RICHARD CCEUR DE LION. 15 

Jaffa, which was most decisive, is generally esteemed as the greatest 
of his many exploits. Overpowered by a generous admiration, 
Saphadin, seeing him dismounted, sent him during the action, two 
magnificent horses, and on one of these Richard pursued his suc- 
cesses till nightfall. Every champion that met him that day was 
killed or dismounted ; and the ordinary troops, whenever he headed a 
charge against them, are said to have turned and fled at the very sight 
of him. It was by deeds like these that Richard left a traditionary 
fame behind him that grew and brightened with the passing years, 
and tbat his name became a word of fear in the mouth of the Mus- 
sulman natives. " This tremendous name," says Gibbon, " was em- 
ployed by the Syrian mothers to silence their infants ; and if a horse 
suddenly started from the way, his rider was won't to exclaim, 
" Dost thou think king Richard is in that bush." 

As the battle of Jaffa was the most brilliant, so also was it the last 
. fought by the Lion-heart in the Holy Land. His health and the 
health of his glorious adversary were both declining ; and a mutual 
admiration and respect facilitated the terms of a treaty which was 
concluded shortly after. A truce was agreed upon for three years, 
three months, three weeks, three days, and three hours; Ascalon 
was to be dismantled, after Richard had been reimbursed the money 
it had cost him ; but Jaffa and Tyre, with all the castles and all the 
country on the coast between them, were to be left to the peaceful 
enjoyment of the Christians. The pilgrims of the west were to have 
full liberty of Jerusalem at all seasons, without being subjected to 
those tolls, taxes, and persecutions, which had originally provoked 
the crusaders. All parties immediately prepared to avail themselves 
of the treaty, and since they could not enter Jerusalem as conquerors, 
to visit it as licensed pilgrims. The French, who had refused to take 
part in the battle of Jaffa, and who were on the point of embarking 
at Acre, now declared their intention of staying yet awhile, that 
they, too, might visit the holy sepulchre ; but Richard, indignant at 
their recent conduct, told them they had no claim to the benefits of 
a treaty which they had done nothing to procure. The rest of the 
army visited the hallowed spots, and Saladin nobly protected them 
from all injury or insult. The friends and relations of the hostages that 
had been murdered at Acre, threw themselves on their knees before 
him, imploring permission to take vengeance on the Christians, who 



16 ADVENTURES IN GERMANY. 

were now in their power; but he rejected their prayer with disgust) 
and successfully controlled their fanaticism and revenge. The second 
body that arrived in Jerusalem experienced the greatest kind 
we team from Vinesauf, who was one of the party. The Bishop of 
Salisbury, who led the third body of pilgrims, was received with 
marked respect, being invited to the royal palace, and admitted to a. 
long and familiar conversation with the Sultan. Saladin was eager 
of fame, even from the Christians. " What say your men of your 
king and of me?" he inquired. "My king," replied the bishop, "is 
acknowledged as one surpassing all men in valorous deeds and gene- 
rous gifts ; but your fame also stands high, and were you but con- 
verted from your unbelief, there would not be in the world two such 
princes as you and Richard." Saladin applauded, as he had often 
done before, the loyal frankness and the courage of the English king, 
but blamed his rashness and unnecessary exposing of himself; ending 
this part of the conversation by saying that, for his own part, he 
would rather enjoy the reputation of modesty and prudence, than 
that of mere audacity. He conceded to the bishop's request that the 
priests of the Latin church should be allowed to have regular estab- 
lishments at Jerusalem, Bethlehem, and Nazareth, — a privilege 
hitherto confined to the eastern churches of Greece, Armenia, and 
Syria. 

A violent fever, brought on by his tremendous exertions in the 
field of Jaffa, is said to have been the cause why Richard himself did 
not visit Jerusalem ; but it is at least probable that his reluctance to 
enter merely on suffrance that town which he had so vehemently 
hoped to conquer, had some share in this omission. 



ADVENTURES IN GERMANY. 

In the month of October, 1192, Richard sailed for England. But 
storms of violence, uncommon even for the boisterous season of 
autumn, soon scattered his fleet. The people thought that Heaven 
had directed the elements against them, because Jerusalem was still 
in the hands of the infidels. Many of the vessels were wrecked on 
hostile shores, and the warriors of England, who might once have 
bade defiance to the world, now penniless, naked, and famished, were 
led into Saracenic prisons. Other ships fortunately reached friendly 



ADVENTURES IN GERMANY. 17 

ports, and in time returned to Britain. At the end of six 
weeks from his departure from Acre, Richard was off the Bar- 
baiy shores, within three clays sail of the port in the south of France, 
whence he had embarked for the Holy Land. His misfortunes had 
became known, and he heard that the French lords had resolved to 
seize him, if he landed in their territories. The condition of his ves- 
sel forbade the hope of a safe return to England, and Germany was 
the only country through which he expected to escape. He pur- 
chased the maratime guidance of some pirates, and the course of his 
vessel was changed from Marseilles to the Adriatic. His companions 
were Baldwin de Betun, a priest, Auselin the chaplain, and a few 
Knight Templars. The royal party landed at Zara. They wished to 
pursue their route to the north ; and accordingly one of these went 
to the Governor of Goritia for passports, who unfortunately for 
Richard was nephew of the late Marquis of Tyre. The messenger 
was desired to declare the quality of his masters. He described them 
as pilgrims on their return from Jerusalem. " Their name ?" asked 
the Governor. " One is called Baldwin de Betun," answered the 
man ; " and the other, Hugh the merchant ; and the latter has com- 
manded me to give you a ring, as a proof of his good dispositions to- 
wards you." The Governor admired the beauty and splendor of the 
ruby; he was struck with the singularity of the transaction; he 
naturally thought that he who sent the gift could be no common per- 
son ; and after weighing the circumstance in his mind, he exclaimed, 
" the name of the owner of the ring is not Hugh the merchant, but 
king Richard ; tell him, however, that although I have sworn to de- 
tain returning pilgrims, yet the magnificence of this gift, and the dig- 
nity of the donor, induce me to violate the rule, and to allow your 
master to pass." Plantagenet heard with alarm of the discovery hfe 
generosity had occasioned; the. knowledge of the circumstance of the 
dispersion of his fleet was not confined to France, and every christian 
monarch was prepared to seize as a prisoner the great champion of the 
cross. Richard and his friends took to their horses in the middle of the 
night, and the news was spread that the king of England was in Ger- 
many. The fugitives were unmolested till they reached Frisak, near 
Saltsburgh. The Governor of that country commanded one of his re- 
lations, a Norman knight, to examine all travelers. The speech and 
manners of Plantagenet were marked with curiosity by him, who 



18 ADVENTURES IN GERMANY. 

knew the English character, and his prayers and tears produced an 
avowal from the king, that the object of his search was discovered. 
Honorary and pecuniary rewards had been offered as incentives to 
diligence ; but the generous Norrnan thought only of the safety of 
his liege lord, entreated him to fly, and presented him Avith a swift 
horse. He then returned to his master, and told him that Baldwin 
de Betun and his companions were the only pilgrims in the town, 
and the report that Richard was of the party was false and ridiculous. 
The Governor, however, relied upon the certainty of his previous in- 
formation, suspected the old knight of deceit, and issued orders for 
the detention of strangers. Six of the English were put in prison, 
but the king escaped accompanied only by "William de Stagno, and a 
boy who understood the German language. 

After travelling for three days and three nights, and scarcely ever 
stopping for refreshment, Richard arrived at a town near Vienna. 
He heard that the duke of Austria was in the place, and he knew that 
that haughty impetuous nobleman remembered liim with feelings of 
hatred, because in the siege of Acre, the English monarch had checked 
his arrogance and presumption. The fugitives were so much harass- 
ed, that they could not pursue their course. The German boy was 
sent to the market place in order to purchase provisions ; and as he 
had experienced the generosity of his master, he was usually dressed 
with elegance and nicety. The contrast of the vulgar demeanor and 
the handsome clothes of the youth, attracted the attention of the peo- 
ple ; they demanded his name and condition ; and he replied that he 
was the servant of a very rich merchant, who three days before had 
arrived in the town. The boy saw that his story was not credited, 
and on his return to the king, he advised his immediate escape. But 
Richard was ill and weary, and totally unable to depart. The boy 
continued his visits to the market place, and for some days attracted no 
further notice ; but on one occasion, the citizens saw in his girdle a pair 
of such gloves as were usually worn by kings. The poor lad was 
seized and scourged, and the threat to cut out his tongue if he did not 
tell the truth, drew from him the secret of the real quality of his mas- 
ter. The Austrian soldiers immediately surrounded the house of 
Richard, and the king, knowing the fruitlessness of resistance, offered 
to resign his sword. The duke advanced, and received it, and in the 
excess of his joy, treated him for awhile with respect. But it 



MATILDA. 



19 



was soon apparent that Plantagenet was his prisoner and not his 
guest. 

The king of England was confined in Gynasia, till the following 
Easter, when he was sold to the Emperor of Germany. Henry IV, 
removed him to a castle in the Tyrol ; and the prison was so strong, 
that no one had ever escaped from it. But in the mind of a tyrant, 
mountains form not impenetrable barriers, and walls are a doubtful 
security. Imperial cruelty therefore commanded that armed men 
should always be present in the chamber of Richard, and that he 
should never speak in private to any of his companions. ■ Sometimes 
the royal captive calmed his angry soul by singing the warlike deeds 
of heroes of romance. At other times he diverted melancholy by the 
composition of poems; in one of which he declares, with simple 
pathos, that his barons well knew that he would have ransomed any 
of his companions who had been overtaken by a misfortune similar 
to his own ; but he would not reproach them although he was a 
prisoner. 

At last, by the importuning of Queen Eleanora with the Pope, for 
his interference in behalf of her son, the papal sovereign threatened 
the emperor with excommunication, if Richard was not released. 
This led to negotiations, and he was eventually ransomed for a large 
sum of money. 



MATILDA, 

DAUGHTER OF HENRY I. OF ENGLAND. 

T-nis princess was publicly declared as her father's heir and suc- 
cessor before the death of Henry, and the barons swore to maintain 
to her their fealty and allegiance. She had been previously married 
to Henry Y. emperor of Germany, and afterwards to Geoffey of An- 
jou. But upon the decease of Henry, the kingdom was seized by 
Stephen, a grandson of the Conqueror by his daughter Adela with 
the count of Blois, and consequently nephew to Henry. Stephen 
had received great favors from Henry, and had always affected a deep 



20 



MATILDA. 



gratitude towards his uncle, but upon his death he resolved to make 
a bold effort for the crown. By his valor, liberality, and affable man- 
ners he had gained great favor with both barons and people, and as he 
passed through England, and arrived at London, the citizens of which 
were especially devoted to him, he was received with great acclama- 
tions. Here he prevailed upon the primate to crown him. 

A contest for the crown soon commenced between Stephen and 
Matilda. To the latter all the barons had been pledged by all the 
sacred force of oaths, but so strong was their prejudice against female 
domination, and their friendship to Stephen, many of them did not 
hesitate to prove themselves foresworn. The contest now opened in 
earnest. About this time she gave birth to a prince, and she 
had scarcely recovered from the weakness incidental to her situation, 
when she made the most energetic effort to support, and substantiate 
her claims. By extraordinary exertions, she contrived to collect an 
army of twenty thousand men, and placing herself at their head, the 
amazonian matron marched with all the pomp of war to join and re- 
enforce her husband, Earl Geoffey, who was in Normandy struggling 
against the forces of Stephen. Here ensued a succession of battles, 
until a plan was formed for a descent on England. 

"On the 31st of September, 1139, she landed at Plymouth, near 
Arundel Castle, the residence of Queen Adeliza, the step -mother and 
friend of the empress. She was received within the walls of the cas- 
tle, and treated with all the distinction which her own dignity and 
the affection of her relative could bestow. The news of her arrival, 
however, threw the army of King Stephen into immediate motion, 
and brought the engines of war under the walls of the castle. Fear- 
ful of the consequences, Queen Adeliza determined to try the effects 
of policy in lieu of force, and appealed to the chivalrous feelings of 
the incensed monarch, in behalf of her illustrious but ill-timed visitor. 
She assured him that the only object of her royal guest in making 
this visit, was to gratify those feelings of love and relationship, which 
might be reasonably supposed to exist between mother and daugh- 
ter ; that the gates of the castle had been thrown open to her, not as 
a rival to the throne, but as a peacefully disposed visitor, who had a 
longing desire to see her native land, and who was ready to depart 
whenever it should please the king to grant her his safe conduct to 
the nearest port. It was, moreover, delicately insinuated, that to \ay 



MATILDA. 



21 



siege to a castle, where the only commander of the garrison was a 
lady, and where the only offence complained of was a mere act of 
hospitality to a female relation, was surely an enterprise neither wor- 
thy of a hero such as his majesty, nor becoming in him who was the 
crowned head of the English chivalry. 

" The result of this appeal, or of some more convincing argument, 
was such that it lead to the safe retirement of Matilda from the scene 
of danger, who joined her half-brother in Bristol." 

In Bristol, Matilda gathered around her partizans, and a contest 
commenced which lasted until the victory of Lincoln, in which battle 
Stephen fell a prisoner into the hands of Matilda. 

No sooner was Stephen brought a prisoner to her feet, than the 
temper of Matilda underwent a serious change. She began to assume 
an arrogance of manner, an overbearing, wayward will, that soon alien- 
ated from her affections many of the nobles. Some, smarting under 
the indignities they received at her hand, were converted into open 
foes or secret enemies. Meanwhile, every effort was being made to 
bring the city of London, which still remained faithful to Stephen, 
over to the cause of Matilda. Anxious to replenish her coffers, she 
had opened her first direct communication with London, by the de- 
mand for money. The citizens begged for time, as their resources 
had been drained in the support of Stephen. But this request was 
received with a violent ebullition of passion. "You have conspired," 
said she, "for my ruin, therefore, I will neither spare you, nor relax 
in the least in my demand for money." During the controversy they 
ventured to request that she would govern them by the gentle rule of 
her Saxon Ancestor, Edward the Confessor, and not by the stern 
laws of her father and grandfather. Matilda's Norman blood boiled 
at these words ; with frowning brow, and eyes flashing with passion- 
ate indignation, she fiercely reproached their insolence, and bidding 
them go home and collect their subsidy, drove them from her pre- 
sence. This act, and the harsh manner she had treated Stephen's 
Queen, whom she had converted into a bitter enemy, hastened her 
downfall. 

" Shortly after, as seated at a splendid banquet which she had given 
at Winchester, and dreaming in anticipation over the ceremonials of 
her approaching coronation, the mirth of the festival was broken in 
upon, by the arrival of a secret messenger, bearing the fearful tidings, 



22 MATILDA. 

that the city was up inarms. "To horse! to horse!" was the in- 
stantaneous cry, and in a few moments, Matilda and her nobles were 
mounted and ready; but not before the pealing of the alarm bells 
from every church in the city, the clang of arms and the mustering 
of the troops, showed that no time was to be lost; and scarcely bad 
her train got clear of the palace, when the mob entered and took 
possession, and all the plate and furniture became their prey. Ma- 
tilda took her flight to Oxford, and being here in a central situation, 
she hoped soon to reassemble her partizans. 

"Here by her injustice and imperiousness, she drove to resistance 
the bishop of Winchester. She immediately marched her army to 
Winchester, where he was ensconced, but he retired out of the city 
into his stronghold, where Matilda prepared to besiege him. But 
here the imperious Matilda was besieged in turn, by the Queen of 
Stephen, and all those barons whom she had offended by her haughty 
demeanor, who surrounded the Avails of the city. The position of the 
citizens was miserable indeed ; they were attacked from without by 
the beleaguring hosts of the enemy, who blocked up the avenues so 
closely that no provisions could be thrown into the city ; while from 
the castle where the bishop had secured himself, a frequent discharge 
of fiery missils was kept up against them. To add to the horrors 
part of the city was discovered in flames, and forty churches were 
consumed in the conflagration." 

Week after week rolled away, and still the distress of the unfor- 
tunate Matilda continued to increase ; famine and fire within, and the 
sword without, were daily thinning her ranks, and she began sensibly 
to feel the ill-effects of the alienation she had wrought in the minds 
of the nobles. But a short time ago, the whole of England, except- 
ing the county of Kent, had owned her sway ; and now in her hour 
of need, with the troop of Stephen's queen at the gates, she found 
herself surrounded only by a few faithful friends, and not the slightest 
attempt to raise the siege. And to such an extremity was the place 
reduced, that Matilda herself remained several days without food. 
At last she resolved to attempt an escape. 

" Availing himself of a truce proclaimed by the bishop, on the 14th 
of September, the feast of the Holy Cross, Earl Robert of Grloucpster, 
her natural brother made preparations for the escape of his sister; 
sending her forward under the charge of another of her natural bro- 



MATILDA. 23 

thers, Reginald, Earl of Cornwall, he himself remaining at the head of 
a strong rear guard to cover the retreat. This movement was totally- 
unexpected by the enemy ; but no sooner had the enraged bishop 
perceived that his prize was eluding his grasp, than he ordered his 
troops instantly to follow her. A strong barrier was, however, placed 
between him and the object of his pursuit, in the devoted fidelity and 
noble self-devotion of her brave brother, who, aware of the import- 
ance of gaining time, offered so stout a resistance to the advancing 
columns of the enemy, that he himself was at last overwhelmed by 
numbers and taken prisoner. His gallant conduct had nevertheless 
secured the safety of Matilda ; she and her train rode, without once 
drawing bridle, till they reached the castle of Ludgershall, and, after 
resting only a few hours, they remounted, and rode as fast as the 
failing strength of Matilda would permit, to Devises. But the danger 
was not over ; the resistance presented by the Earl of Gloucester had 
been broken through, and scattered bands of the royal troops began 
to appear on the roads. Matilda, overwhelmed with terror at the 
idea of being captured by her enemies, and too much exhausted with 
fatigue and fasting, to be able again to mount her horse, laid aside 
her imperial robes, and, putting on a muffler, and winding-sheet, was 
placed in a coffin, and then, elevated upon a bier, was borne on the 
shouldersof her trusty servants, unnoticed and unsuspected, to Glou- 
cester ; and robed in the garb of death, herself nearer dead than alive, 
the Empress of Germany, re-entered the castle which she had left a 
few months before with such brilliant expectations." 

" A negotiation was now'opened for the exchange of Earl Robert foi 
some of Matilda's prisoners. But Queen Matilda, consort to Stephen, 
refused to exchange him with any other person than with the king 
himself. This was at last effected. 

" The release of Stephen animated his own party, while the cause 
of Matilda grew still more dark, and a dislike for the haughty woman 
began to be more prevalent. 

" Soon after her escape from Winchester, she was besieged by Ste- 
phen in the strong city of Oxford. Most precarious was now the 
situation of the empress; with but few men at her command, wholly 
unprepared for a seige, and yet beleaguered on every side by the 
hosts of her late prisoner. A few months before Stephen's queen 
had on her knees beseeched the release of her lord, promising by the 



24 MATILDA. 

most faithful vows, that if this mercy were extended him, he would 
forego all claim upon the crown, and take upon himself monastic vows. ' 
But even this poor refuge was refused him as too high a boon, and 
now he thundered at her retreat, and set himself down before the bat- 
tlements of the castle, where was the rival of his throne, resolved not 
to stir until she was in his power. He had already gained possession 
of the city, nothing but the castle remained, and there was no power 
of Matilda's without the city, sufficient to attack him. The heart of 
the Empress sunk within her, as day after day passed away, and she 
saw the utter hopelessness of any attempt at relief ; but with a spirit 
rising in proportion to her difficulties, she determined to die rather 
than surrender. 

" The tale of Matilda's escape from Oxford Castle is so marvellous 
that were it not asserted by the indubitable evidence of all the con- 
temporary chroniclers, it would be scarcely credible. Summoning 
all her resolution, she determined on making one daring and despe- 
rate effort for deliverance ; it was now winter, and the cold was so 
piercing, that the waters of the Isis were entirely frozen over, and the 
ground covered with snow. Of this fortunate circumstance, the Em- 
press availed herself. Silently, and at the dead of night, she, with 
three knights of her train, all arrayed in white habiliments, were let 
down by cables from the giddy heights of the castle, and at the wall were 
joined by one of King Stephen's soldiers, whom they had secretly 
gained over. Gliding along, phantom-like, with noiseless footsteps, 
amidst the drifted snow, from which their white garments rendered 
them scarcely distinguishable, they wound their way amidst the tents 
of the royal troop, who were encamped on the banks of the river; 
now and then the stillness of the night was broken by the clangor of 
the horns, or the loud clear voices of the sentinels on duty, challenging 
and replying, every tone of which must have vibrated through the 
very hearts of the fugitives, who were thus traversing the ranks of 
their deadliest foes. Unmarked and unmolested they passed on, the 
frozen river presenting no obstacle to their progress ; and after a long 
and weary march of six miles, but ill-protected from the extreme 
cold by their slender coverings, they reached in safety the town of 
Abingdon, and without pausing a moment to recruit, took horse and 
rode full speed to the Castle of Wallingford." 

Matilda's cause continued on the decline, until at last wearied out 



WILLIAM TELL. 25 

with her hopeless efforts, she abandoned England, and retired to her 
duchy of Anjon. 

" But her son, Henry Plantagenet, soon appeared in England, to 
claim his inheritance. Of a prepossessing appearance, and affable de- 
portment, he soon won the favor of the barons. Stephen had in- 
censed many of the nobles, and was besieging them in Wallingford, 
when Henry came to their aid, and by laying seige to Malmsbury, 
drew Stephen from the investment of the former town, when the two 
armies approached each other. Stephen, attended by Williarn de 
Albini, was reconnoitering the position of his opponent ; when his 
charger becoming unmanageble, threw his rider. He was again 
mounted ; but a second and a third time a similar accident occurred, 
which did not fail to act as a dispiriting omen upon the minds of those 
who were witnesses of the occurrence. Taking advantage of super- 
stitious dread thus excited among the troops, Albini represented in 
emphatic terms to Stephen, the weakness of his cause, when opposed 
by right and justice, and how little he could calculate upon men 
whose resolution in his service, had been already shaken by the inci- 
dent which had just occurred. His counsel was taken in good part ; 
Stephen and Henry, adds the historian, met in front of the two armies : 
an explanation ensued, reconciliation was effected ; and in the course 
of the year a solemn treaty was ratified, by which Stephen adopted 
the young Plantagenet as his successor to the throne." 



WILLIAM TELL. 

" In the midst of Ancient Helvetia, that country so renowned for 
valor, three cantons, enclosed on all sides by the steepest rocks, had 
preserved for many ages their simple manners. Industry, frugality, 
truth, and modesty — those virtues which the conquering kings of the 
earth delight to banish — took refuge among these mountains. 

"There they remained long concealed, nor complained of their 
peaceful obscurity. Liberty in her turn fixed her seat on the summit 
of these mountains, and from that fortunate moment, none who are 



26 WILLIAM TELL. 

truly brave or wise, have pronounced without respect, the names of 
Uri, of Schwitz, or Underwaiden. The natives of these three cantons 
pursued their daily labor in the fields, and escaped for many ages the 
misery produced by the guilty madness of those fierce chieftains who 
conquered the Roman Empire. They formed out of its ruins num- 
ber of smaller kingdoms, which they governed by the worst laws that 
ignorance could invent in favor of tyranny. But they despised, per- 
haps, the poor shepherds and husbandmen of Uri, and on that account 
permitted them to keep the cherished name of freedom. They bare- 
ly submitted to these new Caesars, and preserved their ancient cus- 
toms, their laws, and their virtues. 

" Not far from Altorff, their capital, on the shore of the lake which 
gives its name to the town, is a high mountain, from which the 
traveler, who pauses after the toil of climbing its steep sides, may dis- 
cover a crowd of valleys enclosed by rocks of different size and 
shape. 

" Rivulets, or rapid torrents, sometimes falling in cascades, across 
the rocks, sometimes winding through beds of moss, descend into the 
valley to water meadows covered with vast flocks, or to supply the 
clear lake, in which the young heifers delight to cool themselves. 

"On the summit of the mountain, was a poor hut surrounded by a 
small field, a vineyard, and an orchard. A laborer, or rather a hero, 
though as yet he knew not his own powers, whose heart glowed with 
the love of his country, received from his father, at the age of twenty 
years, this small inheritance, and this was William Tell, the hero of 
Switzerland. 

" Nature had endowed Tell with a fine and lofty soul, a heart full 
of benevolence, and a frame strong and active. He was a head taller 
than the tallest of his companions. He could climb with a firm step 
the most stupendous rocks ; could leap over roaring torrents, or 
chase the wild chamois in their fullest speed to the top of the icy 
summits. His arms could alone bend and break down the E 
oak after a few strokes of his axe, and his shoulders could bear its vast 
weight with all its leafy branches. 

" On clays of rejoicing,, in the midst of the games which the young 
archers carried on, Tell, who had no equal in the art of shooting with 
a bow and arrow, was obliged to be idle while the prize was disputed. 
He was seated in spite of his youth, among the old men, who were 



WILLIAM TELL. 27 

there as judges. Confused at this honor, he could scarcely stir or 
breathe, in his eagerness to watch the flight of the swift arrows. He 
applauded with rapture the archer whose aim was the truest, and 
held out his arms, as if to embrace a rival worthy of himself. But if 
it happened that the quiver was emptied in vain, and no one had 
struck the dove ; if the bird, tired of its useless struggles, was perched 
upon the top of the mast, and looking down with a fearless eye upon 
its feeble enemies, then William would rise, and taking his great bow 
with three of the fallen arrows, with the first he would strike the 
mast and put the bird to flight, with the second he would cut the 
string which hindered it from soaring on high, and with the third 
seek it in the midst of the clouds, and bring it palpitating to the feet 
of the astonished judges." 

Shortly after Tell came into possession, he resolved to follow his 
father's advice and marry. He became enamored of a beautiful or- 
phan girl, called Edmea, was united to her, and bore her to his cot- 
tage. Soon after his heart rejoiced in the birth of a son, whom he 
called G-emmi. JSTear his own abode, resided a valued friend, Melctal, 
and the two families were united by the strongest bonds of friendship. 

But while in the midst of their happiness, the death of Bodolphus, 
the Austrian Sovereign, threatened to put an end to their freedom, 
and their peace of heart. 

■' Rodolphus, whom fortune had seated on the throne of the Caesars, 
had always respected the liberty of Switzerland. The haughty Al- 
bert who succeeded him, puffed up with his vain titles, his vast do- 
minions, and the command of all the armies of the empire, was 
enraged that a few laborers and herdsmen should dare to think of 
being independent of his government. He sent a Governor among 
them to subdue their noble spirit ; and this Governor was Gesler, the 
basest and most insolent of the new Emperor's servants. 

" Gesler, followed by armed slaves, of whom he made executioners 
at his pleasure, took up his abode at Altorff. Of a violent temper, 
and consumed by a restless spirit, which could only be gratified by 
wicked actions, G-esler made himself still more miserable by torment- 
ing those who were in his power. Trembling at the very name of 
Liberty, as a wolf shudders at the whistling of the arrows which the 
hunters send after him, he resolved, he vowed, to destroy this empty 
name. Allowing his infamous soldiers to glut themselves with crime, 



28 WILLIAM TELL. 

he himself gave them an example of rapine, murder, and the most 
horrid insult. 

" In vain did the people complain ; their murmurs were punished 
as guilt. Virtue affrighted, hid herself in the interior of the cottages. 
The laborer cursed the ground for giving to his toil an abundant har- 
vest, which he must never reap. The old, rejoicing in their feeble- 
ness, which promised them that death would soon come to their 
release, joined their prayers to those of their sons, that they might 
not survive them. In short, the veil of misery was extended like a 
funeral crape over the three Cantons by the cruel hand of Gesler ; 
from the instant of whose arrival, Tell had foreseen the wretchedness 
to which his country would be brought. Without letting Melctal 
know his thoughts ; without alarming his family, Tell's great soul pre- 
pared itself, not to suffer slavery, but to rescue his country. Crimes 
grew more common ; the three Cantons, struck with fear, lay trem- 
bling at the feet of Gesler. Tell trembled not ; he was not surprised. 
He watched the crimes of the tyrant with the same eye with which 
he was accustomed to observe on the rocks the bramble armed with 
its thorns. And when his anient friend Melctal poured forth his in- 
dignation in his presence, Tell heard him without reply. He shed no 
tears, nor did a single change of countenance betray his secret project 
He esteemed his friend, and was certain of his honor, but he distrust- 
ed his impatience, and dared not yet confide to him the purpose of 
his soul. He resolved to conceal his design from him till the moment 
of execution, a moment which he knew must soon arrive. He grew 
stern and thoughtful ; spent long days without embracing his child, 
or beholding his wife. He rose even before his usual time ; harnessed 
his team, led them into the field, and guided the plough with an un- 
steady hand : often he dropped his whip ; and suddenly stopping in 
the middle of an ill-traced furrow, his head hung down on his breast, 
while his eyes were fixed on the ground. In this thoughtful posture 
he stood, scarcely breathing, considering the power of the tyrant, and 
his own feeble means of opposing him. On the one hand, he had to 
weigh the cruel Gesler, surrounded by his creatures, and armed by 
boundless power; on the other, a poor laborer determined to be 
free." 

One day as his friend Melctal with his aged father, were engaged 
in their fields, an Austrian soldier rode up and attempted to unyoke 




THE OATH 01 THE THEEE S"W [SB. 






WILLIAM TELL. 31 

the oxen and drive them off. This so enraged Melctal that he secured 
a stick and attacked the soldier so vigorously that he took to flight 
After he was gone, the aged Melctal became alarmed for the safety 
of his son, and urged him to fly to secret passes in the mountains un- 
til G-esler's indignation at the treatment his soldier had received, 
should be over. The old man's son complied, but scarcely had he 
departed when a body of soldiery came to seize upon him. Finding 
that he was fled, they dragged off the old man to the presence of 
Gesler. The tyrant endeavored to force him to reveal the hiding 
place of his son, but unable to accomplish his purpose, and enraged at 
Melctal's obstinacy, he fiendishly ordered the old man's eyes to be 
burned out with red hot irons. The ruthless act was done, and the 
blind Melctal then driven out of the palace. His grand-daughter had 
followed him, and was awaiting without the palace gates, and when 
she saw her aged sire, thus mutilated, she hastened to guide his steps 
up the mountains to his hut. 

When this news reached Tell his indignation knew no bounds. 
He felt that delay only augmented the sufferings of his countrymen, 
and that the time had arrived to strike the blow for freedom, he had 
been so long meditating. Gemmi was immediately despatched with 
secret instructions to Melctal in his concealment in the mountains, 
while Tell himself departed for Schwitz, for the purpose of conferring 
with his confederate, Verner. 

A plan was soon consummated between them, and a large pile 
of arms which had been collected in Verner's cottage, was secretly 
distributed among the friends of their cause. They then repaired to' 
the cave of G-rutti, where Melctal had been signified to meet them. 
Within the cave they met, and ere they departed the details of their 
plan Avere all arranged, and they took a solemn vow to cease not in 
their efforts until Switzerland were free. Melctal, Verner, and a fast 
friend called Furst, were each to assemble what men they could and 
hold them in readiness. Meanwhile, Tell was to repair to Altorff, and 
observing a favorable opportunity for the attack, he was to communi- 
cate the signal to his friends by firing a large pile of wood and straw, 
which he should have in readiness on the mountain top. When their 
conference was ended, each departed on bis especial mission. 

Meanwhile as Gemmi was returning from delivering his message to 
Melctal, he was overtaken by a traveler, who desired the boy to 



32 WILLIAM TELL. 

guide him to Altorff. The boy complied, but on the way, in answer 
to some queries of the traveler, he evinced that indomitable love of 
freedom which so characterized his father, that the traveler in sur- 
prise demanded to know his father's name. The boy, suspecting 
treachery, refused to inform him. But when they came to Altorff, a 
guard of the city approached the traveler, when he ordered the arrest 
of the boy, revealing himself as G-esler. The tyrant had become so 
enraged at the spirit of the boy, and so alarmed at the thought that of 
the children of the mountaineers manifested such an independence of 
feeling, the fathers must be men to be feared and crushed, he resolved 
to arrest Gemmi, and hold him in confinement until his parent 
should appear to claim him. The boy was dragged into the fortress 
and thrown into prison. 

Alarmed at that spirit of freedom which in the hardy moun- 
taineers he found so difficult to subdue, he hit upon a plan to test 
who were the refactory spirits of the country. For this purpose he 
ordered Sarnem, his lieutenant, to take a long pole, place Gesler's hat 
upon it, and to proceed from village to village, in all places compelling 
the people to bow down and do it homage, and those refusing to be 
arrested or slain upon the spot. 

" Sarnem hastened to obey his orders, and when Tell entered Al- 
torff, he was astonished to find in the public square a hat placed upon 
a pole, to which many of the citizens were bowing, who in the act 
of homage received kicks and blows from the brutal soldiery. The 
blood ofthe patriot boiled at the sight. Sarnem soon perceived a man 
standing aloof, leaning upon his bow, and gazing upon the scene with 
ill-restrained indignation. He flew towards him, and glancing upon 
him eyes inflamed with rage, Whoever thou art, said he, 'trem- 
ble, lest I punish thy slowness in obeying the orders of Gesler. Dost 
thou not know that a law is published to oblige every citizen of Al- 
torff to bow with revei'ence to this sign of his power ?' 

"I knew no such law," replied Tell, "nor could I ever have be- 
lieved to whalfan excess of tyranny and madness, the possession of 
unbounded pcfwer would lead. But when I see the base submission 
of this people, I could almost excuse, nay approve of Gesler's folly. 
Well may he call us slaves! he can never sufficiently despise those 
who will thus degrade themselves. As for me, I bow to GorJ 
alone !" 



WILLIAM TELL. 33 

"Eashman!" replied Sarnem, "soon wilt thou repent for thy in- 
solence. Fall instantly on thy knees, if thou would'st prevent this 
arm from chastising thee." 

" I will not obey," rejoined Tell. In an instant a score of soldiers 
flung themselves upon him, and dragged him to the presence of 
Gesler. 

Calm in the midst of the soldiers, deaf to their rude threats, and 
folding his arms across his breast, William stood before the tyrant. 
He regarded him disdainfully, and allowed his eager accusers to speak 
without interruption, waiting in proud silence till Gesler should think 
fit to question him. 

And when in reply to the tyrants interrogations, he manifested so 
undaunted a spirit, and so lofty a soul, that Gesler became convinced 
that the boy arrested by him, could be no other than the son of TelL 
The boy was secretly ordered to be brought before him, and no soon- 
er did he enter than Tell sprung forward to embrace his son. The 
tyrant's suspicions being confirmed, he resolved on a refined cruelty 
as a punisment for his enemy. He had heard of Tell's matchless skill 
with his bow and arrow, and he resolved to put it to test. He or- 
dered that an apple should be put on the youthful Gemmi's head, 
while Tell should be compelled to shoot it off. Did he consent he 
was to be free, but to refuse, the boy was to be put to death before 
his sight. Tell, with horror at the fearful alternative, at first refused 
the trial, begging Gesler to let his vengeance fall on him and spare 
his son. But the brave boy would not hear of his father's proposi- 
tion, and begged of him to make the trial, assuring his father that he 
did not fear the result. At last Tell yielded. The trial was ordered 
to take place at once. The ground was measured out, and the young 
boy placed on his knees with his back to his father, and the bow and 
arrow placed in the hands of Tell. " His bow was given to him with 
one arrow only, the point of which he tried, it broke, and he threw 
it away, demanding his quiver. It was brought to him : as it lay at 
his feet, he stooped down, and appeared to be making choice of an 
. arrow ; but when he had a favorable opportunity, he hid one in his 
clothes, and seized another with which he meant to shoot. Then 
grasping his bow and arrow, and turning his eyes towards the be- 
loved mark to which he must direct his aim, twice he endeavored to 
shoot, but in vain. The bow fell from his hands. At last, rousing 



34 WILLIAM TELL. 

all his skill, his strength, his courage, and wiping away the tears 
which had dimmed his sight, he invoked that all-powerful Being, who 
beholds from the highest Heaven parental anguish : then nerving his 
trembling arm, he forced, he accustomed his eye to look only at the 
apple. Seizing the moment, as rapid as thought, in which he could 
forget his son's danger, he took his aim ; he drew his bow, and struck 
the apple, which the arrow carried with it as it flew. The market- 
place echoed with shouts of joy ! Gemmi ran to his father's arms, 
who, pale and motionless, exhausted by this amazing effort, could 
not return his embrace. He looked wildly about him ; he could not 
speak ; and hardly heard the voice of Ids child. He could scarcely 
stand, and would have fallen but for Gemmi, who supported him. 
The arrow concealed in his clothes fell to the ground, and was per- 
ceived by Gesler, who was instantly by his side. Tell, who was be- 
ginning to recover his senses, turned away his head at the sight of 
the tyrant. 

' Incomparable archer !' said Gesler to him, ' I shall keep my 
promise, and pay thee the price of thy matchless skill. But, first, let 
me hear for what purpose thou hast reserved this arrow which thou 
hadst concealed ? One only sufficed for thee, why then didst thou 
hide this?' — 'Tyrant,' said Tell, 'this arrow was to have pierced 
thy heart, if my ill-fated hand had been the cause of my son's death !' 
At these words, wrung from a father's agony, the terrified Gesler re- 
treated into the midst of his guard. 

" Revolting his promise, he ordered Sarnem instantly to load Tell 
with chains, and conduct him to the fort. He was obeyed. They 
tore him from Gemmi's embrace, who vainly demanded to accompany 
his father. The guards drove him away. The people murmured, 
and appeared moved : Gesler hastened to his palace, and ordered all 
his soldiers to arms. Vast bodies of Austrian troops marched in all 
parts of the city, and obliged the terrified people to hide themselves 
in their habitations. Terror reigned in every street ; and the soldiers 
were ready to glut themselves with the blood of new victims. 

" Meanwhile Gemmi alarmed for the fate of his father, sped to the 
mountains to convey the news to Melctal, while Clara, Melctal's 
daughter, who was in the town, hastened to Tell's cottage to apprise 
Edmea of her husband's situation. The sad news pierced the heart 
of Edmea with anguish, and fired the blind old Melctal with new 



WILLIAM TELL. 35 

vigor. He proposed that they should set out at once for Altorff -where he 
had friends, and when he hoped to incite the citizens to a revolt, while 
his son, apprised of Tell's situation by G-emmi, he felt assured would ba 
hastening to the town with his friends. Edmea, unknown to her 
husband, had become aware of the signal to be used by him to ac- 
quaint his friends of the appointed time for the rising, and therefore 
proposed that they should fire her cottage, as there was not time to 
raise a pile of combustible materials, and by that means arouse the 
friends of freedom through the three Cantons. This plan was speedi- 
ly put in execution, and as they descended the mountain, the fire 
spread rapidly through the building and soon it was in a bright blaze, 
throwing a vast light all around, which might be seen far and near. 
Verner saw it in Schwitz — the impatient Melctal, whom G-emmi had 
not yet reached, leaped with joy at the sight — and Purst, in the 
mountains of Urseren, doubted not that Tell, at the head of the brave 
inhabitants of Altorff, was expecting him to obey his signal. 

These three chiefs armed themselves almost at the same instant , 
left their dwellings to seek out their faithful followers, and rouse them 
in the name of Liberty ! Their friends awakening from sleep, seized 
their arms, assembled in silence, and formed into battalions. From 
three different quarters, at the same hour, these three chieftains began 
their march to Altorff, followed by troops who made up for want of 
numbers by their courage and resolution to die or deliver their 
country. 

"All pressed forward with impatience. They dreaded lest the 
snows, the torrents, the untracked roads, should retard their march, 
and occasion them to arrive too late at the fort — at that gloomy for- 
tress which they have resolved to attack and to conquer, along with 
the tyrant. 

"But Gesler, whose fears never slumbered, alarmed at the signs of 
revolt which he had witnessed in the multitude, fearing to lose his 
prisoner, and trembling for his own safety, had already taken measures 
of which one alone was sufficient to disappoint his brave enemies. 
He resolved to remove Tell to the tower of Kuznach, at the other end 
of the lake of Lucerne, from which place he would bring reinforce- 
ments to crush the revolt. A boat was hastily got ready, forty chosen 
archers embarked in her, and Tell loaded with chains was cast into the 
bottom of the boat. At midnight they sailed from Altorff, unknown 



3b WILLIAM TELL. 

to the inhabitants, and took their way across the lake. As Tell lay in 
the bottom of the boat looking up towards heaven, he suddenly to 
his great astonishment, perceived on the side towards Altorff, a red 
and streaming light. His heart bounded at the sight, but lie 
could not comprehend how this signal could be given, since he 
had confided the secret to no one. Meanwhile his captors were 
greatly wondering as to the cause of the light. The boat passed 
on through the first lake and a narrow strait which led them to the 
deep waters of the dangerous lake of Underwalden. Here a furious 
storm arose which threatened them with destruction. The north 
wind sending storms before it stirred up the waves into mountains, 
and carried them roaring to the side of the vessel, where they broke, 
and by redoubling their attacks, forced it to yield to their violence. 
Forsaking its path in spite of the efforts of the rowers, it flew side- 
ways towards the coast, while the west wind bringing clouds, hoar 
frost, and snow, covered the sky as with a funeral veil, spread darkness 
over the waters, and striking the faces and hands of the rowers with 
icy darts forced them to row more feebly, and, obliging them to hold 
down their eyes, concealed from them the sight of their danger. The 
boat was soon filled with ice and abundance of snow ; and this cruel 
wind opposing its progress, combatted the north wind which attacked 
it towards the side, and forcing it rapidly to turn on its keel, kept it 
suspended on the foaming waves ; then abandoning it for a time, 
threatened to hurl it to the bottom of the lake ! 

" The pale and terrified soldiers, not doubting that death was near, fell 
on their knees to implore the aid of that God whom they had so long 
forsaken. The base G-esler, more cowardly than the rest, went from 
one boatman to another, promising them all his treasures if they 
would give him hopes of saving his life. Sullen and motionless, they 
answered him only by their silence. Tears, the disgraceful tears of 
weakness and cowardice, bathed for the first time the eyes of the 
fierce Gesler. Certain that his end drew near, neither his riches nor 
his power, his tortures, nor his assassins, could secure him from a 
watery grave. He wept, he wished for life, and lost his thirst for 
blood. 

" Tell, tranquil where he was first laid, and far less disturbed by the 
cries of the soldiers, the noise of the waves, or the roaring of the un- 
chained Boreas, than he had on perceiving the light towards Altorff— 



WILLIAM TELL. 37 

Tell awaited death, considering only the advantage which his coun- 
try might obtain by the death of the tyrant. But now the boatmen, 
aware of Tell's great reputation in the management of a boat, besought 
Gesler to free him that he might conduct them safely to the shore. 
The trembling tyrant yielded, and the soldiers hastened to set Tell at 
liberty ; his irons fell off— he rose, and, without speaking a word, 
seized the rudder. Guiding the boat with his hand as a child bends 
at his will the wand that he plays with, he opposed its prow to both 
winds, and thus dividing their force, he kept it equally balanced. 
Just then profiting by a moment's calm, he rushed like lightning from 
the prow to the stern, kept the boat in the direction which alone 
could save it, made the boatmen take their oars once more, and, di- 
recting their labors, advanced in spite of the winds and the waves 
into the strait through which he wished to return. The darkness 
prevented Gesler from perceiving that he was going back to the place 
from whence he began his voyage. 

" William continued his course ; night was nearly over, but they 
were once more in the lake of Uri. He saw the expiring flame of the 
signal given on the mountain of Altorff. This light was his guiding 
star ; he had long known the lake, and avoided its dangerous rocks, 
though he approached the shore which bordered on the Canton of 
Schwitz. He thought of Verner, and was certain that he must al- 
ready be on his march, and that the snow which covered the roads 
would oblige him to keep close to the lake-side. With this feeble 
hope, he steered the boat along, and, to increase the terror of Gesler 
and his soldiers, seemed to be ignorant where the tempest had car- 
ried them. 

" At last the east began to grow red, and the storm to abate at the 
approach of dawn. The daylight discovered to Tell the rocks near to 
Altorff, before the dreaded tyrant had time to recognize them. Wil- 
liam steered towards them with greater velocity. Gesler, whose 
cruelty returned as the danger grew less, watched Tell with gloomy 
frowns. He wished, but had not yet courage to chain him again. 
His soldiers and sailors soon perceived where they were, and inform- 
ed the Governor, who, approaching Tell with anger, demanded in a 
terrible voice, ' why he had rowed the boat back to Altorff?' 

" William, without replying, pushed the boat against a rock very 
near to the shore, and, seizing hastily the bow and arrow which one 



6b WILLIAM TELL. 

of the guards hold in his hand, darted like lightning from the boat to 
the rock, over which he bounded like the wild chamois, and leaped 
from it to another rock which was nearer to the shore. This he 
climbed with a firm step, and stood on the summit like the eagle of 
the Alps, which rests its wing among the clouds, and surveys with 
piercing eyes the flocks of the valley. 

" The astonished Governor uttered a cry of fury and of rage ; he 
commanded his men to land instantly and surround the rock on which 
ne saw the hero. They obeyed ; the archers descended, and had al- 
ready bent their bows. Gesler, marching along with them, wished 
that their united arrows might drink the life-blood of his heroic ene- 
my. Tell was prepared for them — he stopped, he showed himself 
only to draw on the enemy ; he suffered this armed body to approach 
till they were within reach of his deadly arrow. Then looking stern- 
ly at Gesler, he fixed his arrow in the string, and aiming at the ty- 
rant's heart, he bent his bow. The weapon, whistling as it flew, 
made its way through the heart of Gesler, who fell vomiting black 
blood, and stammering out his hatred and his rage. 

" While he breathed out his atrocious soul in curses, Tell had already 
disappeared. Lighter than the fawn, he rushed from the summit of 
the rock ; he ran, he flew over the ice : he gained and crossed the 
solitary paths that led to Altorff. He soon discovered in the snow 
the fresh traces of the footsteps made by Verner's friends, whom he 
had conducted that very night from Schwitz. Following these traces, 
he soon approached them, and his ear was struck with tumult, cries, 
and the clashing sound of arms. He flew to the market-place, and 
found it full, — occupied by three battalions of heroes. Verner, at the 
head of the warriors from Schwitz, was eager to secure the city gates 
before the attack upon the fort. Furst, with the brave troops of Uri, 
desired to be placed at the most dangerous* post. Melctal, with the 
brave men of Underwalden, raising his battle-axe in the air, cried out 
loudly for the assault. Gemmi was at his side. Armed with a long 
spear, he uttered the name of William, and, calling on the soldiers to 
rescue his father, he pointed to the distant prison in which he be- 
lieved that he was still immured. The aged Henry and Edmea, mix- 
ing with the brave soldiers, went from rank to rank, from troop to 
troop, urging them on to the attack. 

" All at once William appeared in the midst of the battalions. A 



WALLACE. 89 

general cry is heard and re-echoed among the mountains. Tell se- 
cured the standard of Uri, and with a battle-axe in his hand, 
placed himself at the head of his friends to attack the fortress. They 
rushed impetuously upon it, determined to raze it to the ground that 
no more tyrants should make it their strong hold. They met with a 
fierce resistance, but they overcame every obstacle, mounted the bat- 
tlements, wrecked a fearful vengeance on their tyrants, and as the 
standard of Uri waved from the fort, Switzerland became forever 
free." 



WALLACE. 

Sir William Wallace, the Hero of Scotland, whose exploits to this 
day are the pride and boast of Scotland, must always be ranked 
among the great and renowned champions of freedom that have from 
time to time appeared in the history of the world. He was born in 
1288, and at an early age began to display that extraordinary agility, 
address and strength which afterwards so made him the terror of his ene- 
mies, and for which he is to the present time renowned and celebrated. 
It was during his youth that his country was overrun by the armies 
of the ambitious Edward, and the aspiring boy in secresy mourned 
over the misfortunes of his unhappy country, and brooded on the 
means that was again to establish the national independence of his 
land, and secure the personal safety of his countrymen. Tales of the 
cruelty and oppressions of the licentious soldiery were daily brought 
to his ears, which served to inflame his passions and increase his 
thirst for revenge. 

He is described as possessing a most remarkable strength and 
agility, his powers being twice as great as those of Robert Bruce, who 
was as strong as any two Highland Scots. He usually carried an im- 
mense claymore, five feet in length, so heavy that an ordinary man 
could not lift it ^nd with this formidable weapon clasped in both 
hands and swept above his head, he would make fearful chasms in the 
ranks of his enemies. A great many marvellous stories are told of 
his adventures, many of which aavor of extravagance, but we will 
endeavor to present a few of his more striking exploits. When only 



40 WALLACE. 

seventeen years of age he manifested his first impatience at the inso- 
lence and indignities of the English. On one occasion an Englishman 
insulted him, and attempted to wrest the knife from his side. The 
youth remonstrated with his assailant, but who still persisted, until 
at last the indignant Scot struck his antagonist dead at his feet. The 
companions of the unfortunate man pursued him in great fury, but he 
escaped and took shelter in an inn, where the landlady hastily dressed 
him in a russet gown, covered his head with an old soiled curch, put 
a white cap on his head over all, and set him down to spin just as 
the furious soldiers entered the house in search of him. The strata- 
gem proved entirely successful. 

Some time after this, while engaged in fishing, five of Lord Percy's 
guard rode up and accosted him with some insulting language. 
"Zounds Scot, we shall have thy fish," said one. Wallace replied. 
" I will share half with you most cheerfully." "Words at last got high 
until one of the party rushed upon Wallace with a drawn sword, but 
he parried off the blow with his pole staff, laid him on the ground, 
snatched up his sword and despatched him. The other four rushed 
in a body upon the boy, but he bravely stood his ground. One he 
slew with a back sweep of his sword, another's head he laid open, 
and the remainder fled for their lives. These deeds of prowess 
evinced that wonderful strength and agility that was destined in after 
combats to do such terrible destruction upon his enemies. Numerous 
other deeds of a similar nature are recorded of him, but it is our pur- 
pose to come at once to those great events of his life that so essen- 
tially stamped him with renown and made him the terror of his an- 
tagonists. After being confined in a prison for some months for 
slaying the steward of Lord Percy, from which he escaped in a re- 
markable manner by being supposed dead, and thrown from the Avails, 
but luckily escaping without injury — he gathered around him such 
determined spirits like his own, that were resolved to expiate their 
wrongs, and drive the invaders of their country from her soLL 

The first event after securing his band of followers, was 

THE BATTLE OF LOUDON-HILL. 

Having heard of a convoy of provisions and rich spoils, proceeding 
to Ayre under the command of Fenwick, he placed himself in am- 
bush in order to afford a favorable attack. They numbered but fifty- 



WALLACE. 



41 



two in all. The English were far more numerous. A quaint author 
thus describes the collision : " Nine score Fenwick led in bright bur- 
lished harness, and fifty on horseback. The Scots on foot, armed 
with good claymores, and caps of steel, met them on the hill ; and 
oh ! to see the fury of the tremendous combat ! steel clashing against 
steel — legs and arms, brains and entrails covering all the plain, and 
the dying enemies weltering in their gore. Fenwick, never doubting- 
victory, attempted to ride down the band of Scots by a furious onset ; 
but Wallace, first in fight, met them fell and keen, with his immova- 
ble company of youths, and transfixed the foremost of the enemy : 
then all swords were drawn on either side, and were wielded in dire 
array. The Englishmen surrounded the Scots on every side thinking 
to bear them down by their horses and their numbers ; but the close 
little band of Scots stood impenetrable, and repulsed all the attacks 
of their enemies. When Fenwick then saw their unexpected repulse, 
and the fields dyed with the blood of his men, he advanced on a 
prancing steed, clothed in bright armor ; wielding the dreadful spear, 
with dismal gloom and dashed into the thickest of the fight in fury. 
Wallace saw the murderer of his parent and brother, and became as 
outrageous as a hungry Hon ; he flew at him, and with a deadly blow 
sheared away his thigh. 'Ere he was dead the enemy bore so close 
and keen, that poor Eobert Boyd was almost overpowered by the 
number of his foes ; but Wallace saw the unequal struggle of his no- 
ble companion, turned in again and rescued him from danger, and 
chased them through the plain. There Adam Wallace and Beaumont 
cut a Southeron Squire of great renown through the middle, and be- 
fore night there was not a Southeron to dispute the field of battle. 
Three Scots Warriors fell in battle on that awful day ; one hundred 
Southerons lay dead around them and four score escaped by flight, 
leaving all their convoy a prey to the victorious Scots." 

THE BATTLE OP THE SHORT-WOOD-SHAWS. 

Sir John Butler, the son of Sir James Butler whose father Wallace 
had slain in battle, was sent with a thousand men of war, to the 
Short- wood-shaw for the purpose of dislodging the Scottish chief who 
had taken refuge there. From the same author quoted above we 
draw the following description: " Butler was impassioned with dou- 



42 WALLACE. 

ble rage and spirit of revenge, and poured his men into the shaw in 
multitudes ; archers, spearmen, and swordsmen, with dreadful din of 
war, resolved to exterminate the little band of Scots, who lodged in 
the wood. But Wallace heard them approach undismayed, drew up 
his men in form of battle best calculated to defend themselves, so few 
in numbers, against a thousand strong. The Southerons advanced in 
awful front, supposing to cut the Scots to pieces in a few minutes, 
and a tremendous combat began, the like of it never was seen on the 
pleasant green banks of the Tay, where such deeds were done, such 
feats performed, and such glories won, that no human pen can repre- 
sent, in verse or in prose, arms meeting arms, swords clashing against 
swords, spears crashing against long claymores, heads and limbs fly- 
ing asunder, and brains and entrails flowing forth in the presence of 
the invincible Scots. The Scots were formed into a dense ring, and 
presented a circular front, like a wall of iron, that nothing could pene- 
trate, nor could a sufficient number of their weaker bodied foes en- 
gage to overpower them. As for Wallace, he labored hard, and often 
pierced through their ranks, and laid many dead upon the ground, 
dealing blows of destruction among his enemies. He carefully sought 
for young Butler through and through the ranks, and at last he eyed 
him breathing vengeance against his enemy, defended underneath a 
bowing tree. Intent he mustered all his strength, fiercely struck at 
Butler, cut down the branch and felled the champion dead on the 
spot. Loran of Gowrie saw his companion fall dead, under the 
mighty claymore of Wallace, was enraged and flew at him in a tre- 
mendous fury : but Wallace parried off the dreadful blow, and with a 
sweep of his claymore stretched the younker dead at his feet. Then 
the valiant Scots fought nobly all that day, and repelled their enemies at 
every onset, till they in shame withdrew, and left the Scots in possession 
of the field of battle. Astonishing to tell, that sixty Scots should 
defeat a thousand Southerons, and only leave seven of their num- 
ber dead on the field, while full six score of their opponents lay dead 
around them. Wallace having won the battle of the Short-wood 
shaws, fearing that the .enemy would receive reinforcements, and at- 
tack them, wearied with the long and desperate contest, withdi ew 
into Methvin wood, and thence retired to Elcho-Park." 

Numerous other encounters and battles occurred in all of which 
Wallace displayed his wonderful prowess. At one time while in 



ROBERT BRUCE. 43 

France ; the courtiers of the king envious of the power and influence 
of Wallace, resolved upon his destruction. By skillfully framed mes- 
sages, they made Wallace believe that the king was anxious to see 
him manifest his power in a contest with a ferocious lion, that was 
held in a cage in the city, and by a similar cunning, they induced 
the king to believe that Wallace was desirous of proving to the king 
bis great prowess in such an encounter. By these means the contest 
was brought about, Hut the battle was of short duration. Wallace 
thrust his mantle into the lion's mouth, and instantly despatched him 
with his sword. But Wallace was indignant at the king's supposed 
cruelty in requesting him to fight so fearful an animal, and he imme- 
diately left the court, and returned to Scotland. 

He was afterwards betrayed into the hands of the English, by whom 
he suffered death in 1305. 



ROBERT BRUCE AND HIS ADHERENTS. 

Bobeet Bruce succeeded Wallace as the champion of the indepen • 
dence of Scotland. Like Wallace he was a man huge of stature, and 
of wonderful strength, second only in these qualities to his renowned 
predecessor; he was likewise a skilful warrior; wise, prudent, and 
generous. He was the rival claimant to the throne of Scotland with 
Sir John, the Bed Comyn, but anxious only to rid his country of its 
invaders, he endeavored to induce his rival to join with him in an at- 
tempt to expel the common enemy. To this the ambitious and sel- 
fish Comyn turned a deaf ear, and in one of their conferences Bruce 
became so enraged that he struck him dead at his feet. After this 
Bruce became desperate, and staking all his hopes upon a single 
movement, laid claim at once to the crown, and bade the English and 
the Comyn faction a resolute defiance. He was crowned in the 
midst of his friends, at the Abbey of Scone. When Edward of Eng- 
land heard of this, he became enraged, and marched an army di- 
rectly upon Scotland. In the first encounter, by a combination of 
untoward circumstances, Bruce was signally defeated. He escaped 
from the field with a few of his adherents, among whom was the cele- 



44 ROBERT BRUCE. 

brated Sir James Douglass, and retired into the Highland raoun 
tains, where they were chased from one place of refuge to another, 
placed in great danger, and underwent many hardships. A high price 
was set upon his head, and he was made to feel all the miseries of an 
outlaw. He and his followers presented a wretched appearance, and 
to augment their sufferings, they were joined by the queen, and other 
ladies ; those who were little able to struggle against cold, hunger 
and weariness. " The roots and berries of the earth, the venison 
caught in the chase, the fish which abounded in the mountain rivers, 
supplied them with food, and the warm skins of deer and roe with 
bedding." 

" Driven from one place in the Highlands to another, Bruce at- 
tempted to force his way into Lorn, but he found enemies every- 
where. The M'Dougals, a powerful family, then called Lords of Lorn, 
were friendly to the English, and putting their men in arms, attacked 
Bruce and his wandering companions as soon as they attempted to 
enter their country. The chief of these M'Dougals, called John of 
Lorn, hated Bruce on account of his having slain the Bed Comyn in 
the church at Dumfries, to whom this M'Dougal was nearly related. 
Bruce was again defeated by this chief, through force of numbers, at 
a place called Dairy ; but he showed amidst his misfortunes, the great- 
ness of his strength and courage. He directed his men to retreat 
through a narrow pass, and placing himself last of the party, he fought 
with and slew such of the enemy as attempted to press hard on them. 
Three followers of M'Dougal, a father and two sons, called M'Andros- 
ser, all very strong men, when they saw Bruce thus protecting the 
retreat of the followers, made a vow that they would either kill or 
make him a prisoner. The whole three rushed on the Bang at once. 
The King was on horseback, in the strait pass we have described be- 
twixt a steep hill and a deep lake. He struck the first man who 
came up and seized his bridle, such a blow with his sword as cut off 
his hand and freed the bridle. The man bled to death. The other 
brother had seized him in the meantime by the leg, and was attempt- 
ing to throw him from horseback. The King, setting spurs to his 
horse, made the animal suddenly spring forward, so that the nigh- 
lander fell under the horse's feet, and, as he was endeavoring to rise 
again, the King cleft his head in two with his sword. The father, 
seeing his two sons thus slain, flew at Robert Br.ce, and grasped him 



ROBERT BRUCE. 45 

by the mantle so close to his body, that he could not have room to 
wield his long sword. But with the heavy pommel, or, as others, 
say, with an iron hammer which hung at his saddle-bow, the King 
struck his third assailant so dreadful a blow, that he dashed out his 
brains. Still, however, the Highlander kept his dying grasp on the 
king's mantle, so that, to be free of the dead body, Bruce was obliged 
to undo the brooch, or clasp, by which it was fastened, and leave that 
and the mantle itself behind him. The brooch, which fell thus into 
the possession of M'Dougal of Lorn, is still preserved in that ancient 
family as a memorial that the celebrated Robert Bruce once narrowly 
escaped falling into the hands of their ancestor. Robert greatly re- 
sented this attack upon him ; and when he was in happier circum- 
stances, did not fail to take his revenge on M'Dougal, or, as he is 
usually called, John of Lorn. 

" The King met with many such encounters amidst his dangerous 
and dismal wanderings ; yet, though almost always defeated by the 
numbers of the English, and of such Scots as sided with them, he still 
kept up his own spirits and those of his followers. He was a better 
scholar than was usual in those days, when, except clergymen, few 
people learned to read and write. But King Robert could do both 
very well ; and we are told, that he sometimes read aloud to his com- 
panions to amuse them, when they were crossing the great highland 
lakes in such wretched leaky boats as they could find. 

" At last, dangers increased so much around the brave King Robert, 
that he was obliged to separate himself from the ladies and his queen ; 
for the winter was coming on, and it would be impossible for the wo- 
men to endure this wandering sort of life when the frost and snow 
should arrive. So he left his queen, with the Countess of Buchan 
and others, the only castle which remained to him, which was called 
Kildrummie, and is situated near the head of the river Don in Aber- 
deenshire. The king also left his youngest brother, Nigel Bruce, to 
defend the castle against the English ; and he himself, with his second 
brother Edward, who was a very brave man, but still more rash and 
passionate than Robert himself, went over to an island called Rachrin, 
on the coast of Ireland, where Bruce and the few men that followed 
his fortunes passed the winter of 1306. In the mean time, ill luck 
seemed to pursue all his friends in Scotland. The castle of Kildrum- 
mie was taken by the English, and Nigel Bruce, a beautiful and brave 



46 ROBERT BRUCE. 

youth was cruelly put to death by the victors. The ladies who had 
attended on Robert's queen, as well as the queen herself, and the 
Countess of Buchan, were thrown into strict confinement, and treat- 
ed with the utmost severity. This news reached Bruce while he \va? 
residing in a miserable dwelling at Rachrin, and reduced him to the 
point of despair. 

" At one time, a near relation of Bruce's, in whom he entirely con- 
fided, was induced by the bribes of the English to put him to death. 
This villain, with his two sons, watched Bruce one morning, till they 
saw him separated from all his men, excepting a little boy, who wait- 
ed on him as a page. The father had a sword in hi3 hand, one of the 
sons had a sword and a spear, the other had a sword and a battle- 
axe. Now, when the king saw them so well armed when there were 
no enemies near, he began to call to mind some hints which had been 
given to him, that these men intended to murder him. He had no 
weapons excepting his sword ; but his page had a bow and arrow. 
lie took them both from the little boy, and bade him stand at a dis- 
tance; "for," said the king, "if I overcome these traitors, thou shalt 
have enough of weapons ; but if I am slain by them, you may make 
your escape, and tell Douglas and my brother to revenge my death." 
The boy was very sorry, for he loved his master ; but he was obliged 
to do as he was bidden. 

" In the meantime the traitors came forward upon Bruce, that 
they might assault him at once. The king called out to them, and 
commanded them to come no nearer, upon the peril of their lives ; 
but the father answered with flattering words, pretending great kind- 
ness, and still continuing to approach his person. Then the king 
again called to them to stand. " Traitors," said he, " ye have sold 
my life for English gold ; but you shall die if you come one foot 
nearer to me." With that he bent the page's bow ; and as the old 
conspirator continued to advance, he let the arrow fly at him. Bruce 
was an excellent archer ; he aimed his arrow so well, that it hit the 
father in the eye, and penetrated from that into his brain, so that he fell 
down dead. Then the two sons rushed on the king. One of them 
fetched a blow at him with an axe, but missed his stroke, and stum- 
bled, so that the king with his great sword cut him down before he 
could recover his feet. The remaining traitor ran on Robert Bruce 
with his spear; but the king with a sweep of his sword, cut the steel 



ROBERT BRUCE. 47 

head off the villain's weapon, and then killed him before he had time 
to draw his sword. Then the little page came running very joyful 
of his master's victory ; and the king wiped his bloody sword, and 
looking upon the dead bodies, said, ' These might have been reputed 
three gallant men, if they had resisted the temptation of covetous- 
ness.' 

" After the death of these three traitors, Robert the Bruce con- 
tinued to keep himself concealed in his own earldom of Carrick, and 
in the neighboring country of Galloway, until he should have matters 
ready for a general attack upon the English. He was obliged, in the 
."T:ean time, to keep very few men with him, both for the sase of se- 
cresy, and from the difficulty of finding provisions. Now, many of 
the people of Galloway were unfriendly to Bruce. They lived under 
the government of one M'Dougal, related to the Lord of Lorn, who 
had defeated Robert Bruce at Dairy, and very nearly killed or made 
him prisoner. These Galloway men had heard that Bruce was in 
their country, with no more than sixty men with him ; so they re- 
solved to attack him by surprise, and for this purpose they got two hun- 
dred men together, and brought with them two or three bloodhounds. 
These animals were trained to chase a man by the scent of his foot- 
steps, as foxhounds chase a fox, or beagles or harriers chase a hare. 
Although the dog does not see the person whose trace he is put 
upon, he follows him over every step he has taken. At that time 
these bloodhounds, or sleuthhounds, (so called from slot or sleut, a 
word which signifies the scent left by an animal of chase,) were used 
for the purpose of pursuing great criminals. The men of Galloway 
thought themselves secure, that if they missed taking Bruce, or kill- 
ing him at the first onset, and if he should escape into the woods, 
they would find him out by means of these bloodhounds. 

" The good King Robert Bruce, who was always watchful and 
vigilant, had received some information about the intention of this 
party to come upon him suddenly and by night. Accordingly, he 
quartered his party of sixty men on the farther side of a deep and 
swift-running river, that had very steep and rocky banks. There 
was but one ford by which this river could be crossed in that neigh- 
borhood, and that ford was deep and narrow, so that two men could 
scarcely get through abreast ; the bank on which they were to land 



48 ROBERT BRUCE. 

on the other side was steep, and the path which led upwards from 
the water's edge, extremely narrow and difficult. 

" Bruce caused his men to lie down to take some sleep, at a place 
about half a mile distant from the river, while he himself, with two 
attendants, went down to watch the ford, through which the enemy 
must needs pass before they could come to the place where King 
Robert's men were lying. He stood for some time looking at the 
ford, and thinking how easily the enemy might be kept from parang 
there, providing it was bravely defended, when he heard at a distance 
the baying of hounds, which was always coming nearer and nearer. 
This was the bloodhound which was tracing the king's steps to the 
ford where he had crossed, and the two hundred Galloway men Avere 
along with the animal, and guided by it. Bruce thought of going 
back to awaken his men ; but then he thought it might be some shep- 
herd's dog. " My nien," he said, " are sorely tired ; I will not dis- 
turb their sleep for the yelping of a cur, till I know something more 
of the matter." So he stood and listened ; and by and by, as the cry 
of the hound came nearer, he began to hear the trampling of horses, 
and the voices of men, and the ringing and clattering of armor, and 
then he was sure the enemy were coming to the river side. Then the 
king thought, " If I go back to give my men the alarm, these Gallo- 
way men will get through the ford without opposition, and that 
would be a pity, since it is a place so advantageous to make defence 
against them." So he looked again at the steep path, and the deep 
river, and he thought it gave him so much advantage, that he him- 
self could defend the passage with his own hand, until his men came 
to assist him. His armor was so good and strong, that he had no 
fear of their arrows, and therfore the combat was not so very une- 
qual as it must have otherwise been. He therefore sent his followers 
to waken his men, and remained alone by the bank of the river. 

" In the meanwhile, the noise and trampling of the horses in- 
creased, and the moon being bright, Bruce saw the glancing arms of 
about two hundred men, who came down to the opposite bank 
of the river. The men of Galloway, on their part, saw but one soli- 
tary figure guarding the ford, and the foremost of them plunged into 
the river without minding him. But as they could only pass the 
ford one by one, the Bruce, who stood high above them on the bank 
where they were to land, killed the foremost man with a thrust of his 



ROBERT BRUCE. 49 

long spear, and with a second thrust stabbed the horse, which fell 
down, kicking and plunging in his agonies, on the narrow path, and 
so prevented the others from getting out of the river. Bruce had 
thus an opportunity of dealing his blows at pleasure among them, 
while they could not strike at him again. In the confusion, five or 
six of the enemy were slain, or, having been borne down the current, 
were drowned in the river. The rest were terrified, and drew back. 

" But when they looked again, they saw they were opposed by 
only one man, they themselves being so many, they cried out, that 
their honor would be lost for ever if they did not force their way ; 
and encouraged each other with loud cries to plunge through, and 
assault him. But by this time the king's soldiers came up to his as- 
sistance, and the Galloway men retreated, and gave up their enter- 
prise." 

Surrounded by a few faithful followers, Bruce now prepared to 
carry on a predatory warfare ; darting suddenly out from his fast- 
nesses and falling on straggling bodies of the English, or by rapid and 
sudden attacks obtaining possession of strongholds and castles. This 
species of warfare he carried on successfully, and now fortune began 
to favor him. The fame of his exploits spread in all directions, and 
his numbers were daily augmented, while the English began to trem- 
ble at his name. His movements were so rapid that his enemies 
could never obtain knowledge of his whereabouts, until he would 
suddenly appear before them. His career became now one uninter- 
rupted course of success. And to increase his advantages, Edward of 
England died, and was succeeded by Edward Second, a weak, ineffi- 
cient prince, who from his utter incapacity, Bruce derived great ad- 
vantages. Castle after castle, and town after town, now fell rapidly 
into the hands of Bruce, and the present king saw the conquests that 
had cost his father so much valor and valuable life, rapidly fall from 
his hands. 

" The heroic spirit of Bruce transfused itself into the peasantry of the 
country ; and the king began to reap the fruits of this popular spirit 
in the capture of the Castle of Lithingow, by a common countryman 
named Binny. Binny, who was known to the garrison, and had 
been employed in leading hay into the fort, communicated his design 
to a party of Scottish soldiers, whom he stationed in ambush near 
the gate. In his large wain he contrived to conceal eight armed 



50 ROBERT BRUCE. 

men, covered with hay. A servant drove the oxen, and Binny himself 
walked carelessly at his side. When the portcullis was raised, and 
the wain stood in the middle of the gateway, interposing a complete 
barrier to its descent, the driver cut the ropes which harnessed the 
oxen ; upon which signal the armed men suddenly leapt from the 
cart, the soldiers in ambush rushed in, and so complete was the sur- 
prise, the garrison were put to the sword and the place taken." 

About the same time, Sir James Douglass heroically obtained posses- 
sion of the Castle of Koxburgh, in the following manner : 

" On Fasten's even, immediately before Lent, when the soldiers 
and officers of the garrison were indulging in wine and wassail, 
Douglass, with about sixty soldiers, favored by a dark night, and con- 
cealed by black frocks thrown over their armor, cautiously approach- 
ed the castle, creeping on their hands and feet through the trees 
which studded the park. They at last approached in this way so 
near, that one of the sentries observed them moving ; and, deceived 
by the darkness, remarked to his fellow, that yonder oxen were late 
left out. Relieved by this fortunate mistake, Douglass and his men 
continued their painful progress, and at length succeeded in reaching 
the foot of the walls, and fixing their ladders of rope, without being 
discovered. They could not, however, mount so quietly, but that the 
nearest sentinel on the outer wall perceived the noise, and ran to 
meet them. All was like to be lost; but the first Scot soldier had 
now mounted on the parapet, and he instantly stabbed the sentry, 
and threw him over before he had time to give the alarm. Another 
sentinel shared the fate of the first, and so intent were the garrison 
upon their midnight sports, that the terrible cry of ' Douglass ! 
Douglass!' shouted in the great hall, was the first thing which broke 
off the revels. In a moment the scene was changed from mirth and 
joy into a dreadful carnage ; but resistance became hopeless, and 
Douglass gave quarter. 

" At this time Randolph, Earl of Moray, was besieging the Castle 
of Edinburgh. Six weeks had been spent in the siege, when an 
English soldier, of the name of Frank, presented himself to Randolph, 
and informed him, he could point out a place where he himself had 
often scaled the wall, and by which he undertook to lead his men 
into the castle. This man, in his youth, when stationed in the castle, 
bad become enamored of a girl in the neighborhood, and for the pur 



ROBERT BRUCE. 51 

pose of meeting lier ; had discovered a •way down and up the steep 
and perilous cliff, with which custom had rendered him familiar ; and 
Eandolph, with thirty men, fully armed, placed themselves under 
his direction, and resolved to scale the castle at midnight. The sur- 
face, however, was not nearly so complete as at Roxburgh, and the 
affair far more severely contested, Besides, Randolph had only half 
the number of men with Douglass, the access was far more difficult, 
and the night so dark, that the task of climbing the rock became ex- 
tremely dangerous. They persevered nevertheless, and on getting 
about half way up, found a jutting crag, on which they sat down to 
take breath. The wall was now immediately above them ; and it 
happened that the check-watches, at this time, were making their 
round, and challenging the sentinels, while Randolph and his soldiers 
could hear all that passed. At this critical moment, whether from 
accident, or that one of the watch had really perceived something 
moving on the rock, a soldier cast a stone down towards the spot 
where Randolph sat, and called out, — 'Away! I see you well.' But 
the Scots lay still as death, and the watch moved on. Randolph and 
his men waited till they had gone some distance. They then got up, 
and clambering to the bottom of the Avail, at a place where it was 
only twelve feet in height, fixed the iron crochet of their rope-ladder 
on the crib-stone, and began to mount. Before, however, all had got 
up, the sentries who "had heard whispering and the clank of arms, 
attacked Randolph, and shouted ' Treason !' They were soon, how- 
ever, repulsed, and the Scots rushed on to the keep or principal 
strength. The whole garrison were now in arms, and a very despe- 
rate conflict ensued, but discomfited by the suddenness of the attack, 
it soon yielded to Randolph and his valiant followers." 

It was by deeds like these on the part of Bruce and his adherents, 
that the king obtained his ascendency in Scotland, and struck terror 
and dismay into the ranks of the English. Alarmed at these suc- 
cesses, Edward was at last aroused to energetic action. He raised an 
immense army of one hundred thousand men and marched into Scot- 
land. Bruce's force all told, was but forty thousand, but securing a 
very advantageous situation, where the immense body of English 
cavalry could not act, he determined to await the attack of his ene- 
mies, and once more risk his crown upon the issue of a battle. His 
position was near the river called Bannockburn, which name was 
3 



52 ROBERT BRUCE. 

given to the celebrated battle there fought by these beligerents. 
Every precaution was taken to secure his position, and to increase its 
strength. In the Scottish army all were united, determined, and 
sanguine from recent victories ; in the English army there were dis- 
sentions, weakness and misgivings. In the first there was great 
military genius, prudence and valor, with which to out-balance a great 
superiority of numbers in the other. 

On the evening previous to the battle, a striking adventure occurred 
to Bruce* He was marshalling the ranks of his vanguard, meanly 
mounted upon a small horse or pony, but clad in armor, and carrying 
a battle-axe in his hand, and distinguished from his attendants by a 
golden coronet which he wore on his helmet. " A part of the Eng- 
lish vanguard made its appearance at this time ; and a knight amongst 
them. Sir Henry de Bohun, conceiving he saw an opportunity of 
gaining himself much honor, and ending the Scottish war at a single 
blow, couched his lance, spurred his powerful war horse, and rode 
against the king at full career, with the expectation of bearing him to 
the earth by the superior strength of his charger, and length of hi3 
weapon. The king, aware of his purpose, stood as if expecting the 
shock; but the instant before it took place, he suddenly moved his 
little palfrey to the left, avoided the unequal encounter, and striking 
the English knight with his battle-axe, as he passed him in his career, 
he dashed helmet and head to pieces, and laid Sir Henry de Bohun at 
his feet a dead man. Upon this, his soldiers raised a great shout, and ad- 
vanced hardily upon the English van, which retreated in confusion to 
the main army," 

On Monday the 24th of June 1314, commenced the battle of Ban- 
nockburn. It is not our office to follow this great battle through all 
its details. It was a terrible and a desperately fought battle, but the 
genius of Bruce was superior to the numbers of Edward, and the 
English king was conquered. The English army first wavered, was 
then broken, and eventually became a complete rout; that whole, 
vast concourse fleeing in every direction, pursued with much havoc 
and dreadful carnage. The victory was most complete, and although 
a desultory warfare was kept up for some time after this, yet the bat- 
tle of Bannockburn established the independence of Scotland, and 
eventually led to the expulsion of the English from her soil. Robert 
Bruce to this day, is justly the pride and veneration of Scotland, 



53 



EDWARD— THE BLACK PRINCE. 

On the 15th of June, 1330, this renowned prince was born, much 
to the great joy of the people of England. In his thirteenth year he 
was created Prince of Wales. During the next three years, he was 
chiefly occupied in the practice of arms, by acquiring that skill in 
their use, and those powers of endurance, which were so necessary 
for the laborious and hazardous life of a knight in the days of chivalry. 
"When sixteen, he accompanied his father to France, and there soon 
saw in reality those scenes which the tournament was but a sportive 
mockery. Several battles were fought in which the young prince 
shared ; and the English army advanced into the interior of the coun- 
try by some of the most daring and successful marches on record in 
the annals of warfare. At length, they encamped in a forest, in the 
vicinity of the French army, which was immensely superior in num- 
bers. Here ensued the celebrated 

BATTLE OP CRESSY, 

fought on the plain adjoining the town of that name. The plan being 
drawn out by the king and his counsellors, he, as the greatest and 
most chivalrous favor he could confer, determined to yield the 
place of danger and of honor to the prince, and, in his own words, 
" to let the day be his." To ensure his success, most of the famous 
knights were placed in the division Avhich the Black Prince (as he 
was now called from the suit of sable armor he usually wore) was 
to command. 

" Early on the morning of the 26th of August, 1346, the trumpets 
sounded, and the army marched to take up the position which had 
been selected the previous day. The ground was an irregular slope, 
looking towards the south and east — the quarters from which the 
enemy were expected. The prince's division was stationed nearly 
at the bottom of the hill ; to the left, and higher up the slope, ap- 
peared the second division, commanded by the earls of Arundel and 
Northampton. On a rising ground, aloof from the rest, was Ejng 
Edward, with a reserve of twelve thousand men. The battle was to 
be fought entirely on foot, and so the horses with the baggage, were 
placed in the rear of the prince. 



54 EDWARD. 

" The soldiers now had permission to refresh themselves while waiting 
the enemy's reproach. They accordingly ate and drank at ease, and 
afterwards lay down in ranks on the long grass, with their bows and 
steel caps beside them. 

" Meanwhile, the French army had approached so near as to ob- 
serve the position of the English army. The vigorous and fresh ap- 
pearance of these troops, determined Phillip to delay the engage- 
ment until the next day, that his own wearied and tired ranks might 
be refreshed. This command was given to the leaders, and the ad- 
vanced troops instantly obeyed ; but the others pressed on, hoping to 
be among the foremost. This obliged the soldiers in front to move 
on again. In vain the king commanded, and the marshals threaten- 
ed ; hurrying forward in disgraceful confusion, the French, passing 
through a small wood, suddenly found themselves in the presence of 
the English. The surprise caused the first line to fall back, and thus 
increase the confusion. The sky had now become clouded, and the 
rain began to fall in torrents, slackening the strings of the cross 
bows of the Grenose archers, who had advanced to break the firm 
front of the English bowmen. The clouds cleared quickly away, and 
the western sun shone out bright and clear, full in the faces of the 
French. The Grenose and English archers now began to discharge 
their arrows, the bows of the English having been protected from the 
rain by coverings, were so much superior to those of the Genose, 
that the latter were soon put to flight, and retreated in confusion 
among the horsemen in the rear. Instead of rallying them, the pas- 
sionate French king ordered the men-at-arms to fire upon them, 
and then ensued a scene of wildest confusion, while on the wild and 
reeling crowd a dense cloud of arrows fell constantly in their midst. 

"Meanwhile, the Count of Alencour on one side, and the Count of 
Flanders on the other, swept around the body of archers, and furi- 
ously attacked the men-at-arms around the prince. But the chivalry 
headed by the gallant boy, met the impetuous charge with equal 
valor and greater success. The fight now became desperate indeed, 
the young prince performing prodigies of valor. Not a man moved 
from the ranks, each man fighting where he stood, while growing 
piles of dead told of their courage and valor. The two counts wore 
slain, and terror began to spread through their troops. A large body 



EDWARD. 55 

of German cavalry now bore down on the prince's archers, and, in 
spite of the terrible flight of arrows, cut their way through and charged 
the men-at-arms. By this time, nearly forty thousand men were 
pressing around the little phalanx. The earls of Northampton and 
Arundel moved up their division to repel the tremenduous attack, 
while the king still remained in his position with his powerful re- 
serve. While watching the battle, Thomas of Aurich came riding up 
the hill. ' How now, Sir Thomas ?' inquired Edward, ' does the bat- 
tle go against my son ?' ' No, sire,' replied Sir Thomas ; ' but he is 
assailed by an overpowering force, and the Earl of Warwick prays 
the immediate aid of your majesty's division.' 

" ' Is my son killed, or overthrown, or wounded beyond help ?' de- 
manded the king. 

"'Not so, my liege,' rejoined the knight; "yet he is in a rude 
shock of arms, and much does he need your aid.' 

" ' Go back to those who sent you,' said the king, ' and tell them 
from me, that whatever happens, to require no aid from me so long 
as my son is in life. Tell them, also, that I command them to let the 
boy win his spurs ; for, God willing, the day shall be his, and the 
honor, shall rest with him, and those unto whose charge I have given 
him.' 

When this message was received, it inspired the prince and those 
about him with fresh courage. The French men-at-arms, as they 
still dashed down on the ranks, met the same fate as their predeces- 
sors, and were hurled wounded and dying from their horses. Many 
of the French ranks now began to fly. The king's horse was shot 
from under him, and on foot he fought, until Iris ranks around him 
were mown down by the incessant volleys of arrows kept up by the 
English archers. The gallant Prince of Wales, meanwhile, still held 
his station firmly in the battle ; the utmost efforts of the French had 
not made him yield a single step. By degrees, as night fell, the as- 
sailants decreased in numbers, the banners disappeared, the shouts of 
the knights and the clang of arms died away. Silence, at last, crept 
over the field, and told that victory was completed by the flight of 
the enemy. Thus was gained one of the most signal victories ever 
achieved by English arms, in which one of the most valiant and 
amiable princes history has shown "fleshed his maiden sword." 



56 EDWARD. 

A NAVAT, BATTLE. 

In the Battle of Cressy, young Edward fully established his 
character as a warrior. A few years afterwards, he showed he 
could display equal courage at sea as on land; this was an en- 
gagement with the Spaniards. This battle took place off the coast of 
Sussex. When the king learned that the Spaniards had put to sea, 
he immediately embarked to command the expedition in person. 

" At last the Spanish ships hove in sight, and came on in gallant 
time. The number of fighting men which they contained, was, 
compared with the English, as ten to one ; and their vessels were of a 
much larger size. They came up, in order of battle, a few hours 
before night. King Edward immediately steered directly against a 
Spanish ship, endeavoring, according to the custom of ancient naval 
warfare, to run her down with his bow. The vessel, much larger 
than his own, withstood the shock, and each ship recovered from 
each other. The king now found his ship had sprung a leak, and 
was sinking fast. Edward immediately ordered his ship to be lashed 
to another of the enemy, and after a desperate struggle, made him- 
self master of a sound vessel. 

" The Black Prince, imitating the example of his father, had fixed 
on one of the largest ships of the enemy ; but while steering towards 
her, the missiles she discharged pierced his own vessel in several 
places. The speedy capture of his enemy was now necessary ; for, 
as he came along side, his barque was absolutely sinking. His op- 
ponent's vessel being much larger than his own, rendered the at- 
tempt very hazardous ; and while, sword in hand, he attempted to 
force his way, bolts and arrows poured on his head from every quar- 
ter. The Earl of Lancaster, sweeping by, saw the situation of the 
prince, and instantly darted to the other side of his antagonist, and, 
after a fierce but short struggle, the Spanish ship remained in the 
hands of the prince ; and scarcely had he and his crew left their ves- 
sel before she filled and went down. Twenty-four of the enemy's 
ships had by this time been captured, and the the rest fleeing, victory 
fell upon the English banner. 

" Several years after, the prince commanded the English army on 
another incursion into France, and among many victories was that 
of 



57 



The French King, John, had raised an immense army to intercept 
young Edward in his march, and one day the prince learned that 
this army lay between him and the village of Poitiers. A party de- 
spatched to reconnoitre, brought word back that the French army 
numbered eight times the English force. Though without fear, the 
prince felt all the difficulties of his situation ; yet his simple reply 
was — " G-od be our help ! — now let us think how we can fight them 
to the best advantage." 

" A high ground, commanding the country towards Poitiers, de- 
fended by the hedges of a vineyard, and accessible from the city only 
by a hollow way, scarcely wide enough to admit four men abreast, 
presented to him a most defensible position. Here he disposed his 
troops for battle. He dismounted his whole force ; placed a body of 
archers, drawn up in the form of a harrow, in front, the men-at-arms 
behind, and stationed strong bodies of bowmen along the hedge, on 
each side of the hollow way. Thus, while climbing the hill, the 
French would be exposed to the galling flights of arrows ; while the 
nature of the ground would further render their superiority in num- 
bers of little avail. 

" The French were now ready to advance, and as its ocean of wa- 
ving plumes rolled up the hill, the prince in his firm and sanguine 
tones gave hopes of victory. Three hundred chosen horsemen soon 
reached the narrow way, and putting their horses at full speed, pour- 
ed in to charge the harrow of archers. The English poured in a flight 
of arrows which threw them into confusion. The bodies of the slain 
men and horses soon blocked up the way ; but others forced their 
way through every obstacle, and nearly crushed the first fine of 
archers. 

"Meanwhile, one of Edward's officers issued from a woody ravine 
at the foot of the hill, and attacked the flank of one of the divisions 
of the French army, as it commenced the ascent. This, with the 
confusion in front, and a rumor that part of the rear army was beaten, 
carried terror into the rear ranks ; and vast numbers who had hardly 
seen an enemy, gained their horses with all speed, and galloped wild- 
ly from the field. 

" The arrows discharged by the horse archers now began to tell on 



58 EDWARD. 

the first line of the enemy. Now was the time to charge, and the 
prince shouting, ' on ! on ! You shall not see me tread one step back. 
but ever in advance. Bear on my banner ! God and St. George be 
with us !' the army bore down on the enemy with levelled lances. 
The hostile forces met in terrible shock. The sight of the conflict 
struck terror into the body of sixteen thousand men, who had not 
yet drawn a sword. Panic seized them, and they fled disgrace- 
fully. 

"King John was now seen advancing with his reserve, in numbers 
still double the force of the English at the commencement of the bat- 
tle. Dismounting, he led his men, battle axe in hand, against the 
English charge. The black armor of the young leader of the En- 
glish, rendered him also conspicuous; and while the French king did 
feats of valor enough to win twenty battles, if courage could have 
done all, the prince was seen raging like a young lion amid the thick- 
est of the enemy. Knight to knight, and hand to hand, the battle 
was now fought. The French were driven back step by step, till 
John found himself nearly at the gates of Poitiers, now shut against 
him. Surrounded on every side by foes eager to make him prisoner, 
he still wielded his battle axe, clearing at each stroke, the foes around 
him, but at last overcome by numbers he fella prisoner into the hands 
of the English, and victory was declared for Edward. Thus was won 
one of the most remarkable victories on record, eight thousand men 
winning the field against sixty thousand. '' When the captives were 
counted, they were found to be double the number of the conquerors. 

When John was brought before Edward, the scene was charac- 
teristic of that delicate and chivalrous respect for a fallen enemy, 
what makes the age of which we write shine brightly out amid all 
its contentions and fierce passions. Edward received him with deep 
and touching respect. Bending his knee before John, he called for 
wine, and, with his own hands presented the cup to the unhappy 
king. At night a sumptuous entertainment was given to the king 
of France, and the principal prisoner. On this occasion occurred 
ao'ain one of those tokens of respect to a vanquished foe, which is 
ever mentioned with the name of Edward. When all were seated, 
it was found there was no place for the prince. Great was the sur- 
prise when the victor appeared to officiate as page, and to wait upon 



JOAN OF ARC. 59 

the king at table. At that age this implied no degradation, but was 
considered the highest evidence of delicate breeding. John begged 
of him to be seated, but he refused, and presented each dish to his 
prisoner, on bended knee. This example was followed throughout 
the camp ; every one treating his prisoner as a friend, and admitting 
them to ransom on their own terms. 



JOAN OF ARC. 

Joan of Arc, called the Maid of Orleans, one of the most extraordi- 
nary heroines mentioned in history, was the daughter of a peasant, 
named Jacques d'Arc, of Domremi, near Vancouleurs, in Lorraine, 
where she was born in 1402. Her youth was occupied in domestic 
employments, and sometimes in driving the cattle to pasture. She 
was of a delicate frame, and uncommon sensibility of temperament, 
and being of an enthusiastic and ardent turn, the misfortunes of the 
Dauphin had enlisted her deepest sympathies, and from the fact of 
being exceedingly devout, combined with a prevalence at that time 
of a belief in spiritual powers, she fancied that she had visions from 
heaven that commanded her to assist the cause of Charles. The state 
of France was involved in an intricate question of the right of succes- 
sion to the crown. After the death of Charles VI, King of France, 
in 1422, Henry VI. of England, then a child of nine months old, was 
proclaimed king of France, according to the treaty of Troyes, (1410 :) 
his uncle, the duke of Bedford, acting as regent. France had been 
distracted forty-two years by civil dissensions. On one side were 
Queen Isabella, the duke of Burgundy, and England ; on the other 
the Dauphin, Charles, who had been abandoned by his own mother, 
was supported ' by the Orleans party. The birth of Charles was de- 
clared illegitimate, and on this ground England based her claims to 
the crown. In seven years he had maintained himself in France, and 
now Bourges, and the territory belonging to it, were nearly all that 
remained to him. Paris, and the north of France, as far as the Loire, 
vere in the possession of the English. Salisbury, the English gene- 



60 JOAN OF ARC. 

ral, had been besieging Orleans, since October, 1428, and its fall would 
ruin the cause of Charles. It was at this time that Joan believed 
herself ordained of heaven to release the dauphin, and place him on 
the throne. She had been assured in her visions of the legitimacy of 
Charles' birth, and commanded to raise the seige of Orleans, and af- 
terwards to conduct Charles to Bheims and there annoint him as 
king. 

"Full of this idea, she quitted her situation, and contrived, in Fe- 
bruary, 1429, to gain admission to Baudricourt, the governor of Van- 
couleurs, told him that heaven had sent her to his assistance, and im- 
plored him to let her fight in their cause. The governor, believing 
her to be insane, paid no attention to her proposal; but she urged' 
him with so much ardor, that he at length sent her to the French 
court, where the superstition of the times had acquired such a degree 
of influence, that the account she gave of her divine inspiration was 
believed. She told them, the Supreme Being had ordered her to 
raise the siege of Orleans : to conduct the Dauphin to Rheims, and 
there annoint him king ; and after a variety of controversial argu- 
ments, whether she was or was not an impostor, her services were 
accepted, and it was decreed that she should raise the siege. Armed 
cap-a-pie, she was exhibited to the populace, who eagerly credited 
everything she had declared, and the soldiers, fired with the ardor 
displayed by this martial heroine, vowed they would die or conquer. 
The beauty of her person, the enthusiasm of her language, united to 
the complete management with which she conducted her milk-white 
steed, together with the consecrated banner which was carried before 
her, impressed the people with the idea that she was fighting by the 
command of God." She was now sent to Orleans with supplies, and 
so great was the confidence of the soldiers in her mysterious power, 
that they expressed themselves in readiness to sally out at once 
against the English. A plan of attack was at once adopted, and it 
was resolved to cross the Loire, and attack St, Jean-le-Blanc, the 
bastile, which most obstructed the introduction of supplies, making 
at the same time a false attack on the side of La Beance. The En- 
glish now concentrated their force, and fell back on the Augustins, 
and the Tournelles, while Talbot approached to c,over them. The 
sun was rising upon the Loire at the very moment the army under 
Joan were throwing themselves into the boats. Upon reaching the 



JOAN OF ARC. 61 

redoubt that covered the bastile, they attacked it with intense energy. 
Prodigies of valor were performed by Joan, whom the English at 
first pretended to despise, but when they observed her superhuman 
energy, her valor, the fire and vigor which she inspired into her 
ranks, and the consecrated banner held before her, their proneness 
to superstition began to invest her with supernatural powers. Per- 
ceiving that the assailants began to slacken in their efforts, she secu- 
red a ladder, and was raising it against the wall, when she was struck 
by an arrow between the neck and shoulder. The English rushed 
out to make her prisoner, but she was borne off. Drawing out the 
arrow, she exclaimed: — "It is glory, not blood, which flows from 
the wound." The bastile soon yielded to the French, and the En- 
glish were routed. The siege was shortly afterwards raised. 

" Having performed this part of her mission in raising the siege of 
Orleans, she insisted upon performing the other part of her embassy, 
and crowning Charles at Rheims. The different cities through which 
she passed opened their gates to her, and the magistrates of Rheims 
sent a deputation with the keys. Every obstacle thus overcome, the 
ceremony of the coronation was performed on the 17th of July ; the 
maid, clothed in armor, and displaying her sacred and victorious ban- 
ner, took her place on the occasion by the side of the king, while the 
people hailed this combination of miracles with shouts and acclama- 
tions. The mystical inauguration of Charles shed over him a kind 
of glory, and gave him, in the eyes of the nation, new and divine 
rights." 

Joan, now that the two objects of her mission were attained, pro- 
posed to retire ; but the general Dunas sensible of the advantage 
he derived from the idea of her supernatural commission, persuaded 
her to remain in arms until the English should be finally expelled. 
Such was the nature of the coronation, and its all powerful effect in 
northern France, that from this moment the expedition seemed but 
to be a peaceable taking of possession, a triumph, a following up of 
the Rheims festivities. The road became smoothe before the king ! 
the cities opened their gates, and lowered their drawbridges. At last 
they came to Paris, where the English were prepared to resist to the 
last moment, and they proceeded to invest it. This was contrary to 
Joan's advice, and the result proved that she was actuated by a fore- 
sight 



62 JOAN OF ARC. 

The French carried one of the outposts, and Joan crossed the first 
fosse, and even cleared the mound which separated it from the second. 
Arrived at the brink of the latter she found it full of water, where, 
regardless of a shower of arrows poured upon her from the city walls, 
she called for fascines, and began sounding the depth of the water 
with her lance. Here she stood, almost alone, a mark to all ; and at 
last an arrow pierced her thigh. Though suffering with pain she re- 
mained to cheer On the troops to the assault. But she was repulsed, 
and the French were obliged to retire. Misfortune now followed her 
steps. During the winter she laid siege to Saint Pierre-la-Moustiers 
and La Chante. At the siege of the first, though almost deserted by 
her men, she persevered in heading the assault and delivering the 
town. The siege of the second dragged on, languished, and a panic 
terror dispersed the besiegers. 

Meanwhile Bedford was assembling new forces. , Burgundy and 
Brittanny still acknowledged the young King Henry VI., who had 
been crowned in Paris. Thus strengthened, the English besieged 
Compregne. Joan threw herself into the town, and, on the very 
same day, she headed a sortie, and had nearly surprised the besieg- 
ers; but they quickly recovered, and vigorously drove back their as- 
sailants as far as the city bridge. Joan, who had remained in the 
rear to cover the retreat, was too late to enter the gates, and, by the 
sudden closing of the barriers, was shut without the city. She was 
instantly surrounded, seized, and dragged from her horse, by the 
bastard Vendome. She defended herself valorously, and fought her 
assailiant like a veteran soldier, but was, at last, overcome by num- 
bers who hastened to secure her. She was sold by her captor into 
the hands of the English. 

The purchasers indulged in a malignant triumph on the capture of 
a woman who had caused such a reverse in their affairs, and resolved 
to show her no mercy. The Duke of Bedford immediately com- 
menced a persecution against her, and because he could find no just 
charge on which to arraign her, he accused her of sorce/-y, impiety 
and magic! The clergy in their inte-est, and the University of Paris, 
to their eternal disgrace, joined in the accusation, '■ Loaded with 
chains and ignominiously treated, she still maintained an undaunted 
intrepidity of mind, and amidst the insulting scoffs of her persecu- 
tors, displayed a heroism that ought to have excited the admiration 




VIEW OF OKLEANS. 




MONUMENT TO JOAN OF ARC. 



JOAN OP ARC. 65 

of mankind. She was brought in irons before an ecclesiastical com- 
mission at Eouen, where a number of captious interrogatories were 
put to her during the space of four months' trial, to which she re- 
plied with firmness and dignity. Among other questions, she was 
asked, why she assisted with her standard in her hand at the corona- 
tion of Charles ? " Because," she nobly replied, " the person who 
6hared in the danger, had a right to share in the glory." Her pre- 
tended visions and inspirations were the most dangerous points of 
the attack, and the weakest of her defence. Urged on these grounds, 
with the crimes of heresy and impiety, she appealed to the pope, 
but her appeal was disallowed. At length she was solemnly con- 
demned as a sorceress, and blasphemer, and delivered over to the 
secular arm. Neglected by the prince whose cause had inspired her 
with such an enthusiastic ardor, and insulted by the very people by 
whom she had been adored, the spirit and resolution of the unfortu- 
nate Maid of Orleans now forsook her, and she tried to avert the 
punishment that awaited her, by an open recantation of her errors, 
and a disavowel of her supposed revelations. The natural love of 
existence implanted in every bosom, when it has lost that indiffer- 
ence which enthusiasm inspires, induced the ill-fated Joan, with the 
hope of preserving her life, to sign articles, treacherously drawn up 
by her accusers, wherein she acknowledged that she had been mis- 
lead by illusions, which she was ready to renounce. Her sentence 
was then mitigated to perpetual imprisonment; but the barbarity of 
her enemies was not satisfied with this vengeance. They insiduously 
placed in her apartment a suit of man's apparel, and because, tempted 
by the view of a dress in which she had obtained so much glory, she 
ventured to put it on, they interpreted the action as a relapse into 
heresy, and condemned her to the stake. In June, 1431, to the per- 
petual shame of her cruel and unjust persecutors, she was burned in 
the market place of Rouen. She met her fate with resolution, and 
the English themselves beheld the scene with tears. She ascended 
the funeral pile amidst the shouts of the multitude, who, instead of 
commiserating, insulted her fate. " Blessed he God!" were the last 
words which she uttered : her ashes were scattered to the wind ; 
and thus treacherously died, in the thirtieth year of her age, the wo- 
man to whose memory altars ought to have been erected. Her king 
did nothing to avenge her cause. He was contented with procuring 



66 MARGARET OP ANJOU. 

a revision of the process, and a restoration of her memory by the 
pope, ten years afterwards. In that act she was styled a "martyr 
to her religion, her country, and her king." The enthusiastic admi- 
ration of her countrymen did not wait for such a slow process. They 
propogated many marvellous tales relative to her execution ; and a 
party would not suppose her really dead, but continually expected 
her return, to lead them, as before, to victory. Posterity has nol 
been able to form a uniform and consistent judgment respecting this 
personage and her actions. The most probable proposition seems to 
be, that she was sincere in the idea of her divine inspiration, and gave 
herself up to the enthusiasm of a heated fancy, and that this circum- 
stance was improved by some of the leading people in the interest of 
Charles, with the addition of so much artifice as was necessary to 
produce a full effect on the passions of the public. It is not doubted 
that, in fact, the appearance of the Maid of Orleans gave a decisive 
turn to the contest between the French and English." 



MARGARET OP ANJOU.* 

Margaret of Anjou, afterwards Queen of England, was the daugh- 
ter of Eegnier, Duke of Anjou. She were born in 1425, and was a 
woman, we are told, of singular beauty, and great wit and policy, to 
which was added much bold and masculine courage. Brought up in 
the petty court of a king, whose sole dominions were reduced to a 
single province, in the midst of dangers and misfortunes, her natural 
strength of intellect was not enfeebled by early indulgence, and she 
was distinguished as the most accomplished princess of her age, even 
before time and opportunity had called forth the qualities of her 
mind ; but it is by no means improbable that the painful circumstan- 
ces of her early life, narrowed the sphere of a character which might 
otherwise have been vastly great. Events were, however, preparing 
in Europe, which soon led her to new scenes. 

The long contention between the rival powers of England and 



* Compiled from a paper by James. 



MARGARET OF ANJOU. 67 

France had caused such scenes of devastation and bloodshed, that, at 
last the behigerants were induced to meet in congress for the purpose 
of forming a treaty of mutual concessions, that might perpetuate a 
peace between them. The congress was held at the city of Tours, 
and the assembly was great and magnificent. Many meetings Avere 
held, but unable to arrange the terms of a general pacification, at last 
adjoined temporarily, agreeing upon a truce for eighteen months. 

While the negotiations were pending, Suffolk, one of the English 
commissioners, concluded in his mind, that the only way to secure a 
lasting peace between England -and France, was to promote a mar- 
riage betwen Henry and Margaret, the French monarch's kinswo- 
man. This object he so urged, that, to attain it, he relinquished all 
claim to dower, without the privity of his associates, and consented 
to give up the English possessions of the county of Maine and duchy 
of Anjou. The marriage was viewed by the English nation with 
disgust, but the French pressed it. Henry himself, however, favor- 
ing the union, the arrangements went on, notwithstanding murmers 
and remonstrances. 

As proxy for the King of England, Suffolk espoused the princess 
in the church of St. Martin, at Tours. The ceremony was followed 
by sjtlendid tournaments, and all that royal magnificence could effect, 
was displayed to give pomp to a transaction which satisfied the vast 
claims of England by a dowerless bride. Soon after, she sailed for 
England, and, after her arrival, was married to the King of England. 

Margaret was now placed in a situation where, had she joined 
great virtue to great talents, she might have saved her husband and 
preserved a crown, but to her high qualities she added many dark 
and dangerous faults. Unfortunately, for herself and the kingdom, 
she came to England to share a throne with a weak prince, at a 
time when the country was disquieted by rancorous and contending 
factions. He was of a gentle, meek spirit, preferring peace to war, 
and rest to business. He was chaste, holy, modest, and of perfect 
integrity ; t ut he was governed by those whom he should have 
ruled, and guided by those whom it was his duty to command. 
The queen, his wife, was his opposite in everything- — she was a wo- 
man of high spirit, strong sense, ready wit, and politic habits, desir- 
ous of glory and covetous of fame. 

Margaret, on coming to England, had naturally thrown herself 



68 MARGARET OP ANJOU. 

into the arms of the party which had been the means of her eleva- 
tion, and, through their intrigues, the parliament had been ren- 
dered, for a time, entirely devoted to her will. Soon seeing, how- 
ever, that Henry did not reign independently, but was greatly led 
by the counsels of the Duke of Gloucester, the protector of the 
realm, she had determined to take upon herself the rule of both the 
king and of the kingdom. An intense hatred was soon formed in 
her heart against the duke, and by her instigation and permission, his 
enemies conspired to take away his life. The result of their machinations 
was, that one morning he was found dead in his bed. This deed created 
the most intense execration and abhorrence of the queen and her 
party thoroughout all England. Gloucester had been a great favorite 
with the people, and his friends burned to avenge his fall. 

Margaret, Suffolk, and others of her supporters, were greatly re- 
joiced at the death of the duke, and thought themselves secure in the 
possession of dominion when they had spilt the blood of a prince 
who had valiantly, uprightly, and politicly governed the realm for 
twenty-five years. The queen thought herself raised above all oppo- 
sition, but she had undermined her own safety. This deed, instead 
of paving her way to power, proved the introduction of a long series 
of calamities, which she and her family underwent in the sequel, by 
furnishing the Duke of York with an opportunity to advance his pre- 
tensions to the crown, which he would not have presumed to pub- 
lish, in all probability, during the life of the Duke of Gloucester. Had 
Gloucester lived, the Duke of York durst not have put forth a claim 
to the crown — had he lived, the nobles would not have conspired 
against the king, nor would the commons have rebelled — had he 
lived, in short, the House of Lancaster had not fallen, and been de- 



In consequence of the universal odium, and the insignificance of 
the king, the Duke of York began privately to circulate among his 
friends and adherents the proofs of his title to the crown. A great 
number of partisans appeared for the duke, and a strong feeling was 
gaining in his favor. At the same time the aspect of affairs in 
France became very threatening. Charles, glad to seize upon any 
excuse for breaking the truce, and observing the inability of England, 
had marched into Normandy, and already most of the English posses- 
sions were again under the dominion of the French crown. This 



MARGARET OF ANJOU. 69 

augmented the discontent in England to a great degree. The storm 
which began to thicken around the head of the queen might well 
have appalled her, even with the aid of an approving ministry, and 
the love of the people ; but she now saw it approaching with no one 
of established fame or credit to support her party, and herself the ob- 
ject of general hatred. 

Matters were fast coming to an issue. Day by day the execration 
of Margaret became more intense, and the cause of York more pros- 
perous. He was supported by two of the most powerful and influ- 
ential lords in the kingdom, Salisbury and "Warwick. They placed 
themselves at the head of an army, and Warwick becoming exasperated 
at the contemptuous treatment to which Margaret subjected him, he 
instantly attacked the king's army in the neighborhood of St. Albans 
and defeated it. Somerset, Northumberland, Strafford and Clifford, 
were all slain in the encounter, and Henry himself wounded by an 
arrow in the neck. The army put to flight, the king retired into 
a small house, which was speedily surrounded by the Duke of York 
and his confederates. The duke hastened into the presence of Henry, 
and, falling on his knees, declared that as Somerset, the enemy of the 
public was dead, they were entirely devoted to his service, and 
ready to obey him. Henry's fears being allayed by this declaration, 
they respectfully conducted him to St. Albans, and from thence to 
London. 

An artificial peace was patched up, York appointed protector to 
the crown, but Margaret was insatiate in her desires for revenge on 
her enemies. 

Meanwhile, in the year 1453, on the 13th of October, Margaret 
was delivered of a son ; he was named Edward, and created Prince 
of Wales. 

The temporary lull was soon ruffled again, and York once more 
heads an army against the king. A battle took place between 
Lord Audly, of the queen's troops, and the Earl of Salisbury, in 
which the former was completely routed. 

Margaret, to retrieve this misfortune, and oppose the farther pro- 
gress of the Yorkists, assembled forces with wonderful rapidity, ap- 
pointing Coventry as the rendezvous. The young Earl of March, son 
to the Duke of York, and the Earl of Warwick, marched to meet the 
queen, and the two armies approached each other near Northampton. 



70 MARGARET OF ANJOU. 

The result of this battle was the entire overthrow of the Lancastrians, 
the queen and the young prince flying with precipitation, and Henry 
falling into the hands of his victors. He was conducted to London 
with every ceremony, and there another compromise was entered into, 
in which Henry bound himself to certain performances ; and it was 
agreed that Henry should enjoy the crown for his natural life, and 
that the Duke of York should be declared his successor. This was 
accepted by all parties, and reduced to an Act of Parliament. 

Meanwhile Margaret had fled into Scotland, and there raised an 
army of eighteen thousand men with which she was marching rap- 
idly south, with the view of delivering the king from the Duke of 
York, and annulling the contract. The protector hearing of this, but 
unaware of the true extent of Margaret's command, with an army of 
four or five thousand, left London to arrest the queen in her career. 
As he advanced, surprised at hearing of her great success in levying 
troops, he resolved to retire to the castle of Sandal and await re- 
inforcements. Here Margaret followed him, and resolved for a bat- 
tle before aid could arrive. She so taunted and provoked the duke by 
insulting language, that he determined to sally out and give her bat- 
tle. He did so, and opened the battle by charging the queen's troops 
impetuously; but her numbers overwhelmed his courage, and the 
Yorkists were routed. The duke himself was slain, fighting valiantly 
on foot, and many others shared the same fate. 

During the battle a priest, chaplain and tutor to the Duke of York's 
second son, the Earl of Rutland, then not twelve years old, seeing the 
disasters of the day, sought secretly to convey the earl out of the 
field, and was proceeding towards the town when he was espied by 
Lord Clifford, who followed and took him, and, observing his apparel, 
asked who he was. The poor boy knelt down with terror depicted 
on his countenance, and, in a supplicating posture, held up his hands 
in speechless agony. " Save him," said the chaplain, " he is the son 
of a prince, who may do you good heareafter." Clifford looking at 
him fixedly, replied, "Thy father slew mine, and so will I thee, and 
all thy kin." So saying, the cold blooded tyrant struck him to the 
heart with his dagger. 

Another battle was fought by Margaret, at St. Albans, ag 
Earl of Warwich, in which she was again victorious, and by this battle 
she obtained possession of the king. The' compromise was now an- 




TEWKESBURY. 



»4a 




MURDER OF THE EARL OF RUTLAND. 



MARGARET OF ANJOU. 73 

l Jled, and both parties prepared for war. Margaret returned to tho 
north where much of her power lay, while the Earl of March and 
Warwick marched into London, where the former was crowned with 
great ceremonies, as Edward, King of England. 

Eight days after his coronation, he started for the north to engage 
the armies of Henry, when ensued the celebrated battle of Towton, 
one of the bloodiest on record, in which the Lancastrians were sig- 
nally defeated. The royal party fled to the north, and Margaret 
shortly afterward embarked for France to negotiate for aid. Here 
she succeeded, in a measure, and returned to England. Her forces 
soon became augmented, and her cause looked promising. 

She approached Hexam where she engaged the Yorkists, and her 
whole army was entirely routed. The king was taken prisoner, while 
herself and youthful prince fled precipitately from the scene. She 
had none in whose fidelity she could trust, and took refuge in the 
woods and deserts, suffering every privation and distress. On foot, 
without attendants, she gained a forest in the vicinity of the scene of 
the last bloody conflict, which she entered, leading young Edward by 
the hand. Night came on as she penetrated into the thickest part of 
the wood, and she was so far humbled as to thank Heaven for the 
shelter it afforded her. She had the brutes of the creation still to 
fear; but they were not so appalling as those she had escaped. No 
trace of human foot appeared ; all was darkness and silence ; yet the 
very deserted aspect of the place pleased her, inasmuch as it better 
suited her purpose ; for, the thought arose that here, where no path 
would lead chance passengers to a discovery, she might more se- 
curely than in any other spot conceal her son, (upon whose life de- 
pended every hope) from the fury of her enemies. It was the very 
beginning of summer ; everything was fresh and beautiful around 
them ; and Margaret determined to remain in the forest of Hexham, 
till war had ceased in the neighboring places, till some prudential 
succor aided them ; or until her son, then only eight years old, should 
be able to undergo a fatiguing journey on foot through Northumber- 
land to Berwick. 

Thus imperatively forced, on account of danger elsewhere, to make 
her abode in the forest for the present, she advanced at daybreak 
to seek some covert to screen her child from the weather. After 
making her way through the underwood, she came suddenly in sight 



74 MARGARET OF ANJOU. 

of several people, who had been sleeping upon the turf Fear rooted 
her to the spot; and her terror was greatly augmented by perceiving 
that they had heard the noise of her steps, and were gazing on every 
side with great eagerness, so that she found it impossible to prevent 
their perceiving her. 

They rushed forward at the sight of a woman, dressed in a very 
rich habit, and that of a child, who bore every mark of superior rank, 
which appeared at first to inspire them with some respect. They 
paused, however, but for a moment, their real avocation being rob- 
bery ; and the facility of making themselves masters of so fine a prize, 
driving away the feelings that had first arrested them, they seized the 
queen, and tore off all her ornaments in a savage and barbarous man- 
ner, nor was the young prince treated with less rigor. Margaret wa? 
adorned with a profusion of jewels, the remains of her former gran- 
deur, which were quite sufficient to have enriched the whole party ; 
but they were so intoxicated with joy at their good fortune, that they 
could not agree in the division of the booty, and began to quarrel 
with all the ferocity and blind fury of such characters. The queen, 
thinking only of her life and that of her son, seised this moment to 
escape, and rushing through the thickest part of the forest, ran as 
long as the little Edward was able to keep up with her. At length 
seeing him ready to sink with fatigue, she caught him up in her 
arms, and continued her flight Avith desperate perseverance. She 
now thought the greatest danger was over, when suddenly there ap- 
peared a single ruffian, with a drawn sword in his hand, and fury de- 
picted in his countenance. At this terrible moment, as he approach- 
ed with menacing gestures, which well might have appalled the 
boldest, Margaret showed her extraordinary presence of mind, by 
taking her son's hand, and assuming at once that air of majesty for 
which she was distinguished, while she said in a tone of confidence, 
as she presented him to the robber, " Here, friend, save the life of my 
son, the son of the good King Henry." 

The robber was struck with the beauty and dignity of her person, 
and charmed Avith the confidence reposed in him. He happened to 
be one of those who had been outlawed by EdAvard for adhering to 
the cause of her husband. His heart melted with compassion at the 
sight of his queen and prince in such deplorable circumstances; and, 
comforting them with assurances of fidelity and protection, he laid 



MARGARET OF ANJ>U. 75 

nis sword at the prince's feet, and offered every service and assist- 
ance in his power to afford them. She requested him to take the 
young prince in his arms, and immediately seized the sword for de- 
fence, in case he should prove false. She entreated the robber to 
take them to a place of safety, that they might be enabled, without 
danger, to learn the fate of Henry and his army. He had a wife 
and a home in the neighboring village, and in the distressed state the 
prince and his mother were, such a shelter was welcome, and most 
thankfully availed of. Here, in this humble state, they remained for 
some time, until they could be conducted to the sea side ; where, 
through his exertions, they found an opportunity of embarking for 
Flanders. Upon leaving him, Margaret deeply deplored her present 
circumstances. " Of all my fortune," said she to him, " what I regret 
the loss of most, at this moment, is the power to recompense you." 

She was hospitably received by the Duke of Burgundy, from whose 
court she repaired to that of her father's, where she lived for several 
years in retirement, while Henry remained a prisoner in the Tower 
of London. 

Meanwhile, circumstances were enacting in England that were to 
raise for her cause the most powerful champion in the kingdom — one 
who had placed Edward on the throne, and was now to raise he-r 
husband's and her own cause from the dust. 

Edward's councilors had advised him to marry, and pursuant with 
this advice, the Earl of "Warwick had been despatched as ambassador 
to the French court, to negotiate for the hand of Bona of Savoy, sis- 
ter to the Queen of France, for his royal master. But while negotia- 
tiations were pending, Edward became enamored of one Elizabeth 
Woodville, to whom, against the dictates of honor, and in the face of 
the remonstrances of all his friends, he was married. When this 
news reached Warwick, his resentment became unbounded. He 
considered himself dishonored, and France insulted, and he had to 
Dreak off the negotiations with the best grace possible. He could 
but regard this match as the highest insult to his honor, and as a fla- 
grant proof of ingratitude in Edward, whom he had raised to the 
throne. When he i eturned to England, he concealed his resentment 
for a time, but fresh insults at last so exasperated him, that he de- 
termined to overthrow Edward, and restore Henry to the crown. 
He opened a correspondence with Margaret, who gave him great en- 



76 MARGARET OF ANJOU. 

couragement of assistance. He "went to Calais, and returned at the 
head of an army. His ovvn vassals, more numerous than that of any 
other feudal sovereign in the kingdom, and the friends of Henry, has- 
tened to his side. With an immense army, he marched towards Ed- 
ward, who, alarmed at the greatness of the earl's numbers, and the 
smallness of his own, fled to Holland. Warwick's force, now aug- 
mented by Edward's army, marched direct to London, released Hen- 
ry from the tower, and restored him to the throne. 

But fortune did not long favor the arms of the Lancastrians. Edward 
was at the head of an army, marching to meet Warwick and contend 
for his crown. Margaret had been detained in France, but was 
daily expected, and Edward was anxious to strike a decided blow 
before Henry could become animated by the presence of his queen. 
He marched to Barnet, and there engaged the forces of the earl. 
Fortune decided for Edward. The army of Warwick was defeated, 
himself slain, fighting in the thickest of the battle, and covered with 
wounds, and Henry again fell into the hands of Edward. 

The same clay this battle was fought, Margaret and her son, now 
eighteen years of age, and a prince of the greatest promise, arrived at 
Weymouth, accompanied by a small force of French soldiers. Ani- 
mated with the hope of once more enjoying the throne, she was 
marching rapidly to join her husband, when the news of the defeat 
was brought. The sudden and terrible reverse struck even Margaret 
with dismay ; and " she fell down," says an old historian, " as if 
pierced with an arrow." 

But animated by the sanguine firmness of her friends, she soon 
raised an army, and met Edward's forces at Tewksbery. Young 
Edward, her son, now took an active part in affairs, and commanded 
a division at the battle. But the cause of the Lancastrians was 
doomed to fall to rise no more. Margaret was defeated, the army en- 
tirely dispersed, and herself and son fell into the hands of Edward. 

After the battle, the yo'ung prince was brought before the king, 
who in an insulting manner, demanded how he had dared to enter 
his realm so presumptuously, with his banner unfurled ? The prince 
answered in a noble and courageous manner, " To recover my father's 
kingdom, and my own inheritance." Edward deigned no reply, but 
cowardly struck him with his gauntlet, and immediately left the place. 
But the cl ;e wn given, an 1 the brutal violence of the king taken ai 



COLUMBUS. 



77 



a signal. The dukes of Clarence and Gloucester, brothers to the king, 
Lord Hastings, and Sir Thomas Gray, deliberately on the spot, 
plunged their daggers in the breast of the unhappy youth. Never 
-was there a more atrocious and bloody murder, which to this day 
makes the perpetrators in the crime execrated by all readers of his- 
tory. 

Margaret was now conveyed a prisoner to London, and confined in 
the Tower. Soon after, her husband died, and this unfortunate wo- 
man, overwhelmed with despair and sorrow, dragged out four years 
confinement in the tower, when, by the death of her husband and 
son, considered no longer formidable to the government, she was al- 
lowed to be ransomed by Louis of France. She retired into France, 
lived in privacy, and died in the year 1482. 



COLUMBUS' VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY. 

Columbus, impressed with the belief that undiscovered land lay to 
the westward, and that by sailing in that direction he could discover 
a western passage to the Indies, on the third day of August, 1492, 
set sail on an expedition that had been for a long while in prepara- 
tion. He took a course directly westward. Nothing remarkable oc- 
curred on the voyage, and the main obstacle Columbus had to con- 
tend with was the incessant murmuring and discontent of his crew, 
who continually importuned him to return to Spain, as they were 
much terrified at being so far from their native land, in a wide ex- 
panse of sea, and sailing on a course they did not know, but which 
their fears pictured as beset with every danger and misfortune. But 
the patience and perseverance of the intrepid mariner were both in- 
exhaustible, and he continued on his course determined not to turn 
back while there was a hope of discovering that for which he sought. 
After sailing for a long time land bfrds began to be seen. This en- 
couraged the adventurers exceedingly, but still many days passed, and 
yet there was no sight of land. At last, on the twelfth of October, 
1492, a sight of land burst on the delighted vision of Columbus and 
his men Never did a discovery convey more delight to a human 



78 COLUMBUS. 

mind, and never was there one more fraught with importance to the 
interests of mankind. 

Columbus approached the coast, and richly dressed in scarlet, he 
went on shore, followed by his other captains. No sooner did he 
touch the land than he fell upon his knees and kissed the soil. Here 
the Spanish flag was unfurled, and with every formality, Columbus 
took possession of the Island. He then sailed farther, and found a 
numerous group of islands, all of extraordinary beauty, and inhabited 
by a wild race, with whom he had many exchanges of trifles for va- 
luable stones and precious metals. 

After some time, Columbus returned to Spain, where he was re- 
ceived with great honors. But he fitted out another expedition, and 
in 1493, sailed again to accomplish new discoveries. He sailed farther 
west and discovered the island of Jamaica. Troubles now began to 
accrue in the settlements on the islands, and Columbus once more re- 
turned to Spain. But he set out on a third voyage, and continuing 
farther west, discovered new islands, and for the first time landed on 
the American continent. Along this coast he continued to sail, occa- 
sionally landing and holding intercourse with the natives. They told 
him of a distant country which abounded with gold and silver, and 
had Columbus followed their directions, he would probably have dis- 
covered Mexico, cut he was too intent upon his object of finding a 
passage to India to heed their statements. 

On one occasion at the mouth of a river, he sent a boat ashore, to 
obtain water, and, as it returned, a sudden swell of the sea meeting 
the current of the river, the boat was swallowed up, and the men 
perished. Columbus and his men were much distressed at this event 
and called the stream The River of Disasters. They continued to sail 
along the coast, called Costa Rica, (The Rich Coast) from the gold 
they found near it. 

After many days he anchored at Puerto Bello. This was situated 
on the narrow Isthmus which connects the North and South Ameri- 
can continents. At this place he resolved to make a settlement, and 
they all set to work to build houses. This proceeding excited the jea- 
lousy of Quibian, the Indian chief of that neighborhood. He there- 
fore laid plans Avith other chieftains to combine and destroy them. 

A man named Diego Mendez was led to suspect some such plan, 
and requested leave of Columbus to take a party of men and proceed 



COLUMBUS. 79 

up the river Veragua, with the view of ferreting out their plans. His 
request was granted. They had not gone a great way, when they 
saw a large body of Indians, armed and prepared for battle. Mendez 
asked them where they were going, and they replied, that they were 
going to fight a rival nation. Mendez offered to assist them, but it 
was declined. He then returned to Columbus with his news. A 
scheme for their destruction they felt assured was on foot, and again 
Mendez volunteered to go to the camp of Quibian, and spy out the 
state of his army. He went, and requested to be brought before 
Quibian. They brought him before his house, which was surrounded 
by the heads of his enemies, whom he had killed in battle, and which 
were stuck up on posts. Nothing daunted at this, Mendez insisted 
upon seeing Quibian. But the chief sent word he must not enter. 
The Spaniard then plead that he was a medicine man, and came to 
cure a wound which he had heard the Cacique had on his arm. Find- 
ing himself still denied, he returned to Columbus. 

Confident that an attack was meditated upon them, they resolved 
to anticipate their foes by a general attack upon them. As they 
would be far less formidable without their chief, a plan was concocted 
by Bartholomew, one of the captains of Columbus, to seize upoV ie 
person of Quibian. Taking a number of armed men, he went to the 
residence of the Cacique. Quibian came forward to meet him. But 
three men attended him to the chiefs presence, the rest being held 
in ambush. A signal was agreed upon, when they should hasten 
forward, seize him, and escape as fast as possible to the river. 

" After talking with him, a little while, he pretended to examine 
the wound on his arm, and took hold of his arm, for that purpose. 
That being, the sign agreed on with his men, they rushed forward, 
and, notwithstanding the cries and yells of his family, they seized the 
chief and his principal companions, tied them tightly, and carried them 
down, to put them on board the ship. The Cacique was given to an 
old, stout pilot, and he was charged not to let him escape. He tied 
him, with strong cords, to the bench of the boat, but the chief groan- 
ed and complained so, of the pain he suffered, that the pilot loosened 
the cord, and held the end of it in his hand. The cunning Indian 
watched, when the pilot looked the other way, and gave a violent 
spring into the water, and almost pulled the pilot after him, into the 
stream. If was dark, and he had other prisoners, so he could do 



80 COLUMBUS. 

nothing to retake the Cacique, but went with the rest to the ship, 
much chagrined and mortified that he had suffered this most impor- 
tant of his prisoners to escape. 

" Columbus concluding that the Cacique had perished in the stream, 
and that the settlement would no longer be in danger, prepared to set 
sail for Spain. He sailed down the bay, and then despatched a boat 
with a number of men to the shore to get water. It was fortunate 
for the settlement that he did so. When they came to the shore, 
they found the inhabitants of the settlement engaged in a terrible 
conflict with the Indians, Quibian not being drowned as was suppo- 
sed. The boat did not dare to make a landing in the face of the enemy, 
but went farther up the river. Thinking themselves safe, they now 
landed, but were immediately attacked by a large party of Indians, 
who killed all the Spaniards save one. He swam down the river to 
tell those at the settlement what had happened. 

" Meanwhile, Columbus, in his ships, was in a very anxious state. 
The boat had not come back, and the sea rose and foamed so furious- 
ly, that no boat could reach the shore. To add to the horrors of his 
situation, one night, the prisoners, who were confined in the ship, 
by placing themselves all together, succeeded in breaking open the 
hatchway, and getting on deck. Some of them jumped over, and 
swam away. Others were taken, and again confined. But the next 
morning, those who were put back, were all found dead ; they had 
either hung or strangled themselves. 

" In this distress, one of his men, named Ledesma, offered to go in a 
boat as near the shore as possible and then try to reach the, land by 
swimming. He did so, and found his countrymen in great terror, 
many of them wounded, and momentarily expecting another attack 
from the savages. Ledesma managed to get back to the ship, and 
reported the sad plight of those who were on shore, who begged of 
Columbus to return and take them off. Columbus yielded, but it was 
not until after nine days that the sea became calm enough for him to 
reach the shore. All embarked, and they sailed for Hispaniola. 

" But the winds were not favorable, and the ship soon became dis- 
ordered and leaky. They found it impossible to reach their destina- 
tion, and made for a harbor in the Island of Jamaica. The ships 
were near sinking when they came into the harbor, but they suc- 
ceeded in getting them to land, and built a sort of a cabin on the 



COLUMBUS. 81 

deck of each ship, for the crew to live in. They established friendly 
relations with the Indians, and carried on a traffiic with them, by 
which means they secured plenty of provisions. But they had no way 
to get from the island, and the future looked black indeed. There, 
was no possible way to escape but by getting word of their distress 
to St. Domingo, which was one hundred and twenty miles distant. 
To get such a word, there seemed an utter impossibility. But at last 
Mendez offered to make an attempt to perform the voyage in a 
canoe. Nothing could be more hazardous, but he courageously bent 
his energies to accomplish the purpose. With six Indians and one 
Spaniard, he set out, but they were obliged to return at the end of fif- 
teen days. Still, not despairing, he made another effort. This time two 
canoes were fitted up, and he started again. After undergoing in- 
credible hardships, their stock of water gone, their provisions spoiled, 
and death staring them in the face, they, to their great joy, made the 
little island of Navasa. Here they found water. Again they set out, 
and reached Hispaniola, performing one of the most wonderful feats 
on record. From this place, they performed their journey to St. Do- 
mingo on foot. After great delays, a vessel was at last fitted out 
and sent to the aid of Columbus. 

" Meanwhile, Columbus had been enduring great vexations and 
trials. The Indians got tired of supplying them with food, and a 
mutiny broke out among his men. Forty of them left him in the ca- 
noes. Not daring to put out to sea, they landed on the island and 
did all the mischief they could, and embittered the Indians against 
the Spaniards. At last the Indians positively refused to bring more 
food. Fortunately, at that time, an eclipse of the moon was antici- 
pated, and Columbus made use of the circumstance to obtain control 
over the savages. He told them that unless they complied with his 
wants, a shadow would fall upon the moon and deprive them of its 
light. They gave no heed to the prediction, but whem the eclipse 
came they were so terrified, that they hastened to conciliate the man 
they now feared as some supernatural being. 

" Still no vessel came, and despair began to seize their hearts. The 
fate of Mendez was uncertain, and they were forced to think that 
it had been impossible for him to make so long a voyage across the 
sea in a frail canoe. To add to their misery, Porras, the head of the 



82 BALBOA. 

mutineers, made an attack upon them, but fortunately he was seized 
and put in irons, and the rest returned to their duty." 

After one entire year of suffering, and when the hope of ever see- 
ing their native land became small indeed, two ships hove in sight. 
Their delight was unbounded. In them they embarked, and soon 
reached St. Domingo. 



BALBOA'S 

DISCOVERY OF THE PACIFIC. 

among the many adventurous spirits who bad followed Columbus 
in the track of discoveries, was Nasco Nurez de Balboa, whose fame 
is based upon the fact of having been the first European who looked 
upon the Pacific Ocean. He left home early in an expedition to the 
New World, and in this expedition visited the coast of Terra Firma, 
touching on the Isthmus cf Darien, where the navigators trafficked 
with the natives for large quantities of gold and precious stones. 
Balboa did not return to Spain with the ship, but remained on the 
Island of Hispaniola, where he undertook to manage a farm. He 
soon, however, got in debt, and determined to attempt another 
voyage. 

" But he was afraid to embark, openly, in this expedition, because 
he thought the people, to whom he owed the money, would not al- 
low him to go away, until he paid them what was due to them; and 
this he could not do. He perhaps hoped to find some pearls or gold 
in this voyage, with which he could come back and pay what he 
owed. He placed himself in a cask, and caused it to be carried from 
his farm on board a ship, which was ready to sail for the coast of 
South America. When the ship was fairly out at sea, Balboa ap- 
peared from his cask, much to the surprise of the captain, who was 
yery angry, and told poor Balboa he would put him ashore on the 
first uninhabited island they reached. But Balboa told the com- 
mander his story, and he became less angry, and agreed to let him 
continue with him." 

The ship sailed for Darien, an Indian village on the western side of 



BALBOA. 83 

the Gulf of Urbana. Upon landing they were met by a body of In- 
dian warriors, but they were soon put to flight. Here they fouuded 
a settlement. They were engaged in many encounters with the In- 
dians, but with some of the tribes they made terms of peace. Many 
rumors from the natives, having reached Balboa, of a great ocean to 
the westward, he, with a number of followers, determined to set out 
on an expedition to discover, if possible, the truth of the rumors. 

On the sixth of September they started on their route, and began 
to cross the mountains. The way was very rough and the march 
fatiguing. In two days they reached the village of a Cacique, named 
Ponca, and made terms of friendship with him. This chief told Bal- 
boa that when he reached a high ridge of mountains, then in sight, 
he would be able to see the great ocean. He again set forward, 
Ponca giving him fresh guides. 

" The country became very rocky ; the forests were very close and 
difficult to pass. They frequently met with streams, which they 
could not pass, except on rafts. The journey grew more and more 
fatiguing, and they advanced so slowly, that all their provisions were 
consumed, and they began to suffer from hunger. 

" Weary and exhausted as they were, they now came to the domin- 
ions of a warlike chief, who was an enemy of Ponca; and instead of 
finding the refreshment and rest which they so much needed, they 
discovered a band of savage warriors, drawn up to meet them, armed 
with'bows and arrows, spears, and a kind of mace, or club, made of 
palm wood, which was almost as heavy and hard as iron. 

"When the Indians saw the little band of tired white men, they 
made an attack upon them at once, confidently expecting to destroy 
them at a blow. But the discharge of the Spanish musketry filled 
them with terror, and they hastily retreated before an enemy that 
seemed to wield tne tmmder and lightning. 

" The Spaniards marched into their village, where they rested for 
the night. They found large quantities of gold ornaments. One 
more mountain remained to climb, and so at earliest dawn the ad- 
venturers left the village and began to ascend the mountain. About 
ten o'clock in the morning, they came to the end of the thick forests 
through which they had been struggling, and reached a high part of 
the mountain, on which there were no trees. Above them was a 
bare, high peak, from which they hoped to see the ocean. 



84 BALBOA. 

"Balboa made his men stop here, and with a beating heart, ho 
climbed this last peak alone. When he reached the top, the sea 
which he so much desired to behold, lay stretched out before him. 
He thought he saw a new world; for, beyond the forests and 
rocks, which lay at the foot of this peak, he saw a new and undis- 
covered ocean, glittering in the rays of the sun. 

" Balboa knelt down and thanked God, that he had been allowed to 
make this great discovery. He then called to his people and bade 
them come up, and see the glorious sight which lay before them. 

" This discovery was made on the 26th day of September, 1513. A 
cross was erected on the spot where the discovery was made, and 
Balboa took possession of the ocean in the name of the sovereigns of 
Castile. After these formalities were over, they descended the moun- 
tain to explore the country below. Here he was met by a body of 
warriors, who declared they would not allow him to set his foot in 
their country. A discharge from their guns soon sent their enemies 
scampering away. Afterwards they came up with valuable presents 
and offers for peace. 

u Balboa now proceeded to the coast, and with a Spanish flag, he 
marched into the water up to his knees, and again took formal pos- 
session of the ocean. 

" He now wished to explore what he could of the ocean, and in an 
attempt to do so, himself, and a large body of his followers were 
narrowly saved from destruction. They set out in frail Indian ca- 
noes, but ere long a storm arose, and their slight vessels were tossed 
about with great fury. They were only saved from swamping by 
being tied in couples, and in this way they reached a small island. 

" Having become very tired, from beating about so long in their ca- 
noes, they laid themselves down and fell asleep. 

"But they were soon awakened by the great noise of the waves. 
The tide, in that part of the Pacific Ocean, rises very high, and the 
islands are often surrounded by it in a sudden manner. As none of 
the Spaniards had ever been there before, and the tides on the other 
side of the isthmus, rose much less rapidly, they were not prepared 
for what now came upon them. 

" The waters kept rushing in upon the island, and rising higher 
and higher. The men, in alarm, went back, higher and higher, upon 
the island; but the water followed them, and continued to rise until 



SIR FRANCIS DRAKE 85 

the men stood above their knees in water. At last it had reached 
its greatest height, and began to fall, and their fears were relieved, 
though they were left wet, chilly, and hungry, on this desolate spot. 
They had left all the provisions they had brought with them in the 
boats, and the boats had been soon covered by the water. 

" At last, when the tide had sunk to the lowest point, they found 
their boats. But they had been so injured by the beating of the 
waves, that some of them were unfit for use, and all were strained 
and not in a proper state to go out upon this rough ocean. The men 
were almost in despair, when they found themselves on a desolate 
island, which was subject to so fearful a rise of the tide, without pro- 
visions to keep them alive there, or boats to take them away." 

But Balboa encouraged them not to despair. By means of using 
part of their clothing, together with the sea grass, they managed to 
repair some of the vesels. In them they put to sea, and after 
a passage replete with danger, reached the shore, and were welcomed 
by those of their companions who had remained behind. 



SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 

In the 3 r ear of 1544, on the banks of the Tany, was born Franc 
Drake, " the terror of the Spaniards." We first hear of him joining ax 
expedition to the New World, under Captain John Hawkins. Owing 
to the treachery of the Spaniards, who, after admitting the English 
ships to traffic in the bay of Mexico, attacked them without any de- 
claration of hostilities, and in violation of the peace between Spain 
and England, four ships were lost, and with these are the accumulations 
of Drake's industry. A divine belonging to the fleet comforted Drake, 
by assuring him that he " might lawfully recover in value of the 
King of Spain, and repair his losses upon him wherever he could." 
Drake, however, first endeavored to recover by his own interest at 
the Spanish Court. Finding this in vain, " though a poor private 
man he undertook to avenge himself on so mighty a monarch." 
Having made himself acquainted with the state of the Spanish settle- 
ments in the West Indies, he determined on a voyage in which he 



86 SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 

resolved to teach the Spaniards how imprudently they always act 
who do injury and injustice. 

Two small ships, one of seventy tons, and the other of twenty-five, 
containing seventy-five men and boys all told, was the force with 
which Drake set out to make reprisals on the most powerful nation in 
the world ! 

The high land of Amenca came in sight on the 2d of July 1572. 
Directing his course to Nombre de Dios, " then the granary of the 
West Indies, wherein the golden harvest brought from Panama was 
hoarded up until it could be conveyed to Spain," and from whose 
stores Drake hoped to enrich himself, — he approached the shore by 
night, keeping close to the land, intending to attack the town at day- 
break. Overhearing his men muttering together of the formidable 
accounts of the strength of the place, and the number of the inhabi- 
tants, Drake changed his resolution ; and when the moon rose, he 
ordered his crew to their oars, and landed without opposition. Un- 
fortunately an accident alarmed the town ; and the rattle of drums, 
the ringing of bells, and the shouts of the people, soon told them that 
their landing was no longer unknown. 

Not to be behind the Spaniards in alacrity, Drake divided his men 
into two companies, and, ordering drums to be beat, and trumpets to 
sound, entered the town, which was unwalled, without difficulty. 
They reached the market-place before they met with any opposition ; 
but here they were saluted with a volley of shot, which being imme- 
diately answered by a flight of arrows, drove their antagonists from 
the ground. 

Making their way, by the direction of a poor Spaniard they had 
captured, to the governor's house, they found the door open ; and 
entering the room where the silver was deposited, they found it heap- 
ed up in bars in such quantities as almost to exceed belief. To quote 
the extravagant statements of Drake's contemporaries, the pile was 
conjectured to be seventy feet in length, ten in breadth, and twelve 
in height, each bar weighing between thirty and forty-five pounds. 
At the sight of such treasure the men thought of nothing but how to 
convey it to their boats. Drake, however, fearing the danger to 
which they were exposed from the Spaniards, prevented them touching 
a single bar, promising to lead them to the king's treasure house, 
where there was gold and jewels of far greater value, and where the 



SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 87 

treasure was not only more portable but nearer the coast. To tin? 
place they hastened, but found it well secured. 

" Now my men," exclaimed Drake, " I have brought you to the 
mouth of the treasury of the world ; if ye do not gain the treasure, 
none but yourselves are to blame. Courage then ; for if so bright an 
opportunity once setteth, it seldom riseth again." 

Grasping his pike, he stepped forward to animate them by his ex- 
ample to force the door ; but suddenly he fell speechless and panting 
to the ground. His companions perceived a severe wound in his leg, 
which he had hitherto concealed. They bound up the wound, and 
cordials soon restored him to speech. But the loss of blood had been 
so great that his life was considered in danger ; the prints of his foot 
from the market-place being completely filled with blood. Concern 
for the life of their leader now induced them to return to their boats.- 
Knowing that the Spaniards by day-light would discover their weak- 
ness, they made sail to a small island, about a league distant, where 
they remained for ten days. At the end of this time Drake entered the 
harbor of Carthagena, where finding a large force drawn up to meet 
him, he succeeded in capturing a ship and two small frigates. 

Drake now opened a communication with the Maroons, — negroes 
who having escaped from slavery, had established themselves in small 
towns in the interior of the Isthmus of Darien. From these people 
he learned the time when the treasure was brought on mules from 
Panama to Nombre de Dios. With some of them as guides, he set 
out with the hope of intercepting a scena, as they called a party of 
mules thus laden. Their march lasted several days. On their way, 
they came up to the top of a high hill, on whose summit grew an 
immense tree. Steps, it is said, were ready cut in this tree ; and 
thus easily ascending it, one of the chief Maroons led Drake to a kind 
of tower or arbor which had been made near its top, "wherein 
twelve men might sit." From this convenience Drake had his first 
view of the great Pacific Ocean on which no English vessel had yet 
been. He there resolved, if life was spared, to sail an English ship on 
those seas. 

Having come within view of Panama, they concealed themselves in a 
grove to await the passing of the mules. Unfortunately for the success of 
his scheme, an advance party was set ahead of the treasure to see if 
there were any ambuscades on the road, and Drake falling on these 



88 SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 

captured them easily, but to his mortification obtained no gold nor 
silver. But soon after fortune favored him. Having concealed his 
men as before, he soon had the satisfaction of seeing mules laden 
with treasures approaching on the road. Being indifferently protect- 
ed they fell a prey to Drake, and his men secured as much gold and 
silver as they could well carry. This appears to have been little bet- 
ter than robbery, but having afterwards received the sanction of the 
Queen, his biographers have smoothed it over and called it heroism. 
The only excuse we can find him, is, that the time gave him the 
largest license, and that he was doing no more than many worthier men 
would have done in like circumstances. 

On reaching the coast where Drake had ordered his finances to 
meet him, they were not to be seen. Seven Spanish finances, how- 
ever, were visible enough, evidently watching for the arrival of the 
English vessels. He was afraid his ships were lost, and as he could 
not remain where he was, he conceived the bold idea of collecting the 
trees, which the current of the river had brought down, forming a 
raft, and venturing out to reach his vessels, or at least to attain 
some of the islands. According to the accounts, a biscuit sack served 
for a sail ; and a small tree, shaped roughly into a large oar, answered 
the purpose of a rudder. On this raft, Drake, left the river and ven- 
tured out to sea. Says his bioprapher, " the water at all times was 
up to their waists, and at every billow reached to their arm-pits." 
Rather an extravagant statement, we should say, and one that draws 
rather largely on the credulity of the reader. After sailing thus for 
six hours, they caught sight of their own finances, which were run- 
ning behind an intervening head land, for shelter during the night 
After reaching their vessels, they sailed around to the river, and re- 
ceived on board those of their comrades that had not embarked on 
the raft, and the treasure which they had snatched from the Spaniards. 
They immediately set sail for England, and on their arrival at Ply- 
mouth were received with public demonstrations. 

Having received the sanction of Elizabeth, Drake set out the fol- 
lowing November, to achieve his long cherished resolution of sailing 
on the South Sea. After many adventures and many perils, from the 
treachery of the natives of the diflerent places at which he stopped, 
the ship reached the Straits of Magellan. Here he met with a severe 
gale, and was driven to the south ; and when the storm ceased, he 



SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 89 

anchored off Cape Horn. He was thus accidentally the discoverer 
of the " uttermost part of the land towards the South Pole, — beyond 
which the Atlantic Ocean and the South Sea meet in a large and free 
scope." Sailor-like, Drake landed, and lying flat on the ground, 
stretched himself as far as he could over the promontory, and, coming 
back, told his people, that he had "been farther South, than any man 
living." 

Drake then coasted northward, landing at different places, capturing 
several Spanish vessels, in which he found immense treasures. He 
now wished to return home, but the whole coast of Peru and Chili 
was in alarm, and whole fleets were fitting out to apprehend him. 
He therefore sailed North with the hope of finding a Northern pas- 
sage, in which voyage they touched upon the shore of Oregon. The 
natives, when they landed, took them for gods, making loud outcries ; 
the women at the same time, tearing their cheeks and bosoms with 
their nails, and throwing themselves on the stones till they were 
covered with blood, — thus hoping to gain the favor of the imagined 
divinities. To convince these poor people of their error, Drake order- 
ed his whole company to fall on their knees ; and with eyes lifted to 
heaven, that the savages might observe they worshipped a Being 
dwelling there, they joined in prayer for this harmless, though deluded 
race. After this they sang psalms, which so pleased their wild audi- 
ence, that at each subsequent visit, the first request was that they 
would sing. A friendly intercourse was kept during their stay ; and, 
when they resolved on departing, the poor natives could not forbear 
perpetual lamentations. As the ship sailed from the coast, the Eng- 
lish could see the natives climbing the hills, in order to keep them in 
view as long as possible. 

Despairing of finding a northern passage, and fearing to return by 
the straits, Drake now conceived the sublime idea of avoiding his 
enemies by sailing around the world. This, in those days, wonderful 
feat, he performed without any signal adventure, and was received in 
England with great delight. The queen ordered his ship to be drawn 
into a small creek that it might be preserved as a monument of the 
most memorable voyage the English had yet performed. He was 
then knighted by the queen, which honor was received with acclama- 
tions by a large crowd of assembled friends. He was appointed vice 



90 HERNANDO DE SOTO. 

admiral in the fleet which defeated the " Invincible Armada," which 
was sent out by Spain for the subjugation of England. 

Six years after, he and Sir John Hawkins were sent out against 
the West Indies, the chief exploit of which, was the destruction of 
Nombre de Dios. During this voyage he was taken sick with a 
fever, and, on the 27th of January, 1597, he died. His body was 
committed to the deep with appropriate honors. 



HERNANDO DE SOTO, 

THE CONQUEROR OF FLORIDA, AND THE DISCOVERER 
OF THE MISSSISIPPI. 

The conquests of Mexico and Peru were resounding through Europe, 
and a spirit of adventure had sprung into existence which the history 
of the world has shown no parallel. The names of Cortez, Pizzaro, 
and the valorous chieftains who had followed them on their strange 
careers, were in the mouths of all, and their deeds the wonder of all 
Christendom. Extravagant stories, more wonderful than Oriental 
fables, came upon every breeze, and told of vast kingdoms situated in 
the midst of mighty forests, that revelled in a barbaric splendor that 
far exceeded the pomp and glitter of christian courts, and even outdid 
the fabulous creations of the Eastern poets. Now and then some 
successful adventurer arrived from the scene where old Spain was 
acquiring new glory, and brought with him such priceless treasures 
and wealth, confirming the wild rumors afloat, and telling of vast 
mines of exhaustless gold, of temples formed of the precious metals, 
and of the utter profusion of pearls and precious stones amid all ranks 
in the heathen nations of Peru and Mexico, until a burning thirst for 
gain would fire every bocom. Among those who had returned from 
following Pizzaro in his conquests, was one Hernando de Soto. He 
brought with him both fame and wealth. In the wild adventures on 
those distant shores, no spirit was so active, no energy so indomnita- 
ble, no bravery so invincible as that of the young and fiery De Soto. 
He returned to Spain to enjoy his vast wealth, but his spirit for ad- 



HERNANDO DE SOTO. 91 

venture and courage could not be content with a life of inactivity. 
A few stragglers had reached Spain, the remnants of an ill-starred ex- 
pedition that had landed on the coast of Florida, and they brought 
word that the natives on the sea coast had told them of mighty king- 
doms situated far in the interior, greater and wealthier than even 
those conquered by Spanish arms in the other parts of the western 
continent. 

De Soto became fired with an ambition to outdo the deeds of the 
conquerors of Mexico and Peru. He resolved to gather around him 
a choice band, to sail to Florida, to plunge into the wilderness, and 
conquering the obstacles of nature, and fighting their way through 
their enemies, discover and seize upon this Eldorado, which their 
imagination pictured them situated far into the interior, hemmed in 
by vast wildernesses, but still accessible to the courage and persever- 
ance of the hardy adventurer. 

On the 25th of May, 1539, De Soto, with a squadron consisting of 
eight large vessels, a caravel, and two brigantines, arrived off a bay, 
now called Tampa Bay, on the Florida coast, and proceeded to land 
with his followers. Then succeeded a succession of the most fearful ad- 
ventures, of hard fought battles with the Indians, of dangerous 
marches through morasses and marshes, and of deeds of individual 
prowess. It was, indeed, a strange sight. Knight errants with float- 
ing pennants, glistening armor, prancing steeds, all the " pomp and 
circumstance of war," the chivalry of the old world, carried into the 
depths of an American wilderness. 

The natives gathered around in vast numbers, at first panic struck 
at so strange a sight, and filled with terror at the strange animals the 
new comers bestrode. Some of them were afterwards induced to ex- 
change terms of amity. But many of the chiefs would not be con- 
ciliated, and, to the last, fought against the aggressions of the Span- 
iard. 

It is not our purpose to follow De Soto and his gallant band 
through all their adventures. With many of the native tribes they 
secured terms of peace, but with others they had to fight their way 
step by step. We must do De Soto the justice to say that his course 
was marked by a uniform leniency and kindness, that every means 
were taken to secure the good feeling of the Indians, and only in de- 
fence had they resort to arms. 



92 HERNANDO DE SOTO. 

Hearing of vast fields of gold to the westward, De Soto, with his 
followers, set out, But morasses were to be crossed, filled with rnire, 
and of uncertain foundation, wildernesses to be tracked of the densest 
undergrowth, and rivers to be crossed that were disputed by vast 
hordes of savages. But, with an indomnitable spirit, they marched 
on. overcoming each of these obstacles by turn, and fighting many 
desperate battles with the natives. 

As they marched on they came to the dominions of a chief, or 
cacique, called Vitachuco. This chief had first avowed his determina- 
tion to exterminate the Spaniards, but, afterwards, pretended to re- 
ceive them kindly. While feasting and entertaining them, he planned 
a perfidious plot for their destruction. He had selected several thou- 
sand of his warriors, and ordered them to conceal their weapons in a 
thicket near the village, and to appear at all times unarmed to throw 
the Spaniards off their guard. On an appointed day he was to invite 
the Spanish general to go forth and see a general muster of his sub- 
jects drawn up in battle array, though without weapons, that he 
might know what a number of Indian allies he might have at his com- 
mand for future conquests. When the general was off his guard, a 
dozen Indians was to seize him, bear him hastily in their midst, and 
then, suddenly seizing upon their weapons, were to attack the Span- 
iards with all their force. But De Soto, by accident, learning of the 
plot, resolved to counterplot, and have the Indian chief seized in the 
same way planned to obtain himself. The day arrived, and when the 
invitation was given he pretended to accept of it joyfully, and, at the 
same time, proposed that his own squadron should be drawn up and 
amuse the Indians by a mock battle. Vitachuco was disconcerted at 
this, but resolved to proceed with his plan. 

All things being arranged, they all proceeded to the open ground 
appointed for the display. De Soto accompanied the cacique on foot, 
apparently unsuspicious of the treason intended. But he went se- 
cretly armed, had a horse saddled in a contiguous place, and ordered 
a dozen men to hover near, ready to act at a moment's notice. 

The Indians were drawn up in full battle array, and their weapons 
were concealed in the grass behind them. On the opposite side of 
the plain were gathered the anxiously watchful Spaniards. On 
foot, between the two assembled armies walked their respective 
chiefs.. De Soto walked unconcernedly with his treacherous com- 



HERNANDO DE SOTO. 93 

panion, when, just as he saw evidences of the signal being given, he 
made his own, and in an instant a dozen men rushed upon the 
cacique and seized upon him. De Soto hastened to his steed and . 
mounted him, at the same moment that the Indians broke out with 
a loud yell and discharged a cloud of arrows. In an instant the Span- 
iards with their chief at their head charged upon the enemy. De 
Soto's horse was shot dead under him, but mounting another, he 
headed his warriors in their attacks. The arrows flew from the dense 
body of the savages in incredible quantities and with wonderful ra- 
pidity, but the impetuous charges of the Spaniards broke their ranks 
and drove them into the thicket in their rear. From this they were 
driven out, and being unable to escape to the forest, and hotly pur- 
sued by the Spaniards, they took to a large lake close at hand. Here 
they were surrounded by the Spaniards, who endeavored by threats 
and promises to force them to surrender. They replied only by a 
shower of arrows. As the lake was too deep to give them a footing, 
three or four would cling together, and support each other by swim- 
ming, while one would mount upon their backs, and ply his bow 
and arrows. In this way this most singular combat was kept up for 
the entire day. When night came on the Indians became greatly ex- 
hausted, but still would not surrender. The Spaniards were posted 
all around the lake, watching to prevent their escape. Some would 
cover their heads with water lilies, and by swimming noiselessly to 
the shore endeavor to escape. But their watchful victors prevented 
them, by driving them back again into the water. They hoped to 
exhaust and force them to capitulate. 

So obstinate were they, however, that it was midnight before any 
would surrender, although they had passed fourteen hours in the 
water. But at last, overcome with weariness, some of them yielded 
to the persuasions of the Spaniard, and surrendered. They came in ' 
slowly however, and it was not until ten o'clock the next day that 
they came ashore. Seven however still held out. Those who had 
surrendered were swollen with water, and overcome with fatigue and 
hunger. The seven refused to surrender and declared they would 
die rather than give up their liberty, but about three o'clock in the 
afternoon the Spaniards swam out to- them, and so exhausted were 
they, that they managed to drive them ashore without being resisted. 
They had been thirty hours in the water without relief or food, an 



94 HERNANDO DE SOTO. 

exploit almost incredible, and a piece of heroism that challenges our 
admiration. They were all treated kindly, and after two days deten- 
tion were dismissed with presents, in order to conciliate the neigh- 
boring tribes and make them friends. 

Vitachuco and some of his chiefs, however, were retained as honor- 
able prisoners. He made another attempt to destroy the Spaniards, 
but this time lost his own life. There were some hundred of his people 
still in the village. With these he concerted another plan, and at a 
preconcerted signal they were to suddenly rise up and massacre their 
enemies. He was invited to a feast with De Soto. Suddenly in its 
midst he sprang up, rushed upon De Soto and struck him to the 
ground with a violent blow, at the same moment giving the war- 
whoop, which was answered from a hundred quarters, and in an 
instant the whole town was in an open warfare. He flung himself 
upon De Soto to finish his work, but before he could give another 
blow a dozen lances in the hands of the Spaniards pierced his body. 
The Indians in the town were soon put to flight. 

With similar adventures, battles and difficulties the Spaniards pur- 
sued their route. Ever allured by visions of gold, and assured of 
their eventual success in finding golden regions to conquer that 
would repay them for their dangers and hardihoods, they pursued 
their adventurous course. Feats of valor were daily performed, and 
at almost every stream, morass, or difficult pass, they had to en- 
counter huge swarms of the savages. Sanguinary battles were fought, 
towns subjugated, immense distances passed, and yet no signs of the 
gold and wealth they were in search of. 

While thus marching on they at one time came to the dominions 
ot the beautiful princess of Cofachiqui. They had approached the 
confines of her village, when messengers arrived from it demanding 
their object. Upon being answered that it was for peace, they re- 
tired, and after a time, the Spaniards observed a fitter borne by 
four men to the river's side that lay between them and the village. 
From this litter alighted a female cacique, who entered a highly deco- 
rated canoe. A kind of aquatic procession was then formed; a 
grand canoe, containing six ambassadors, and paddled by a large 
number of Indians, led the van, towing after it the state bark of the 
princess, who reclined on cushions in the stern, under a canopy sup- 



HERNANDO DE SOTO. 05 

ported by a lance. She was accompanied by eight female attendants. 
A number of canoes filled with warriors closed the procession. 

The young princess stepped on shore, and as she approached 1l;e 
Spaniards, they were struck with her appearance. She was finely 
formed, with great beauty of countenance, and native grace and dig- 
nity. Having made her obeisance to the Spanish general, she took 
her seat on a kind of stool placed by her attendants, and by means 
of interpreters entered into conversation with him, all her subjects 
preserving a most respectful silence. 

The princess received the Spaniards with every attention, presented 
De Soto with a splendid string of pearls, and for some days the cav- 
aliers sojourned in her dominions. They here found large quantities 
of pearls, but most of them were destroyed by smoke or from being 
bored by the Indians. Rumors of gold regions still attracted them, 
and they resumed their route. 

Through many chieftain's dominions they passed. Some received 
them with presents and tokens of amity, others with their warriors 
drawn up in battle array. 

After a time they came to the dominions of Tuscaloosa. This must 
have been in the vicinity of the river Tuscaloosa, which appears to 
have been named after this chieftain. When they came upon tie 
village where he resided, they found him, without the town, sur- 
rounded by a hundred of bis chief warriors, all dressed in rich man- 
tels and plumes. He was a man of gigantic stature, a foot and a half 
taller than any of his companions. His countenance was handsome, 
and his form proportionate to his immense height. He received the 
Spaniards haughtily, and escorted them into the village. 

De Soto remained two days in the village, and then departed taking 
with him Tuscaloosa, as their security while passing through his do- 
minions. After a time they came to the village of Mauvila. A splen- 
did train of warriors came forth to greet them, painted and decorated, 
and clad in robes of skin and flaunting feathers of every brilliant 
color. To these succeeded a band of young damsels, beautiful in form 
and feature. 

In this way De Soto entered the village, side by side with the 
cacique in his flaming mantle of scarlet, followed by a train of horse- 
men in ghttering armor, and preceded by dancing groups of Indians. 
The cacique pointed out the dwellings for the Spaniards, and then 



96 HERNANDO DE SOTO. 

said he wished to be left alone. De Soto informed him he must still 
remain as their hostage. At this the haughty spirit of Tuscaloosa re- 
belled. He said that the Spaniard might go where he pleased, but 
as for himself he must be free. He then entered a house at hand, 
where were gathered some of his warriors, all armed. At this mo- 
ment messengers came to De Soto in great trepidation stating that 
many things looked very suspicious, and that there were all often thou- 
sand warriors gathered in the little village, who were all armed, and 
who were concealed in the houses. Not a child or aged person was 
in the place ; they were all warriors or young women. Word was 
then passed from mouth to mouth, silently and secretly, for them to 
hold themselves in readiness for an attack. Meanwhile De Soto de- 
termined to bear a friendly aspect. He sent messengers asking Tus- 
caloosa to a feast. He refused, but was again and again importuned. 
At last one said, standing before the house where the chief remained, 
" Tell Tuscaloosa to come forth ; the food is upon the table, and our 
general is waiting for him." 

Upon this, there sallied forth an Indian, who appeared to be a 
general. He was in a burning heat, and his eyes flashed fire. " Who 
are these robbers ! these vagabonds !" cried he, " who keep calling to 
my chief Tuscaloosa, come out ! come out ! with as little reverence as 
if he were one of them ? By the sun and moon this insolence is no 
longer to be borne. Let us cut them to pieces on the spot, and put 
an end to their tyranny !" 

Scarce had he spoken these words when another Indian stepped 
up behind him and placed in his hands a bow and arrows. He lev- 
elled an arrow at a knot of Spaniards, but, before he could wing a 
shaft, a blow from the sword of a cavalier laid open his side, and he 
fell dead. 

The war-whoop now rang through the village, torrents of warriors 
poured out of every house, and thus commenced the battle of Mauvila, 
the bloodiest and most desparate fought by the Spaniards. They 
were surrounded by an enemy that out-numbered them by many 
thousands, and a large part of their men were scattered about the 
plain without the town. Each man was surrounded by a horde, but 
the unprotected bodies of the savages felt every blow, while their 
armor greatly protected them. Step by step did the Spaniards re- 



HERNANDO DE SOTO. 97 

treat from the city, fighting with a maddened fury, and every blow 
levelling an Indian to the ground. 

Their horses were tethered without the town, but some of the In- 
dians had been dispatched to slay them. The cavaliers, however, 
drove them off before they had done much execution, and, mounting 
their steeds, charged madly upon the hordes of their enemies. 

From the roof of every house poured down volleys of stones fired 
by the females, which did great havoc among the soldiers. 

Thus they fought hour after hour. At length their companions 
scattered over the plain came to their assistance ; but still the Indians 
were unconquered, but fought until they fell, never thinking of re- 
treating or surrendering. The carnage became terrible. De Soto, 
first fighting on foot, did great execution, but afterwards, mounted on 
a horse and followed by his cavaliers, he rushed with impetuous fury 
upon the enemy, scattering them to the right and to the left, treading 
them under foot, lancing and slaying them in large quantities. Never 
was there a battle fought with more abandoned fury. The wild and 
mingled affray had now lasted four hours. Many of the Spaniards, 
exhausted by the fierce strife, fainting and choked with thirst, ran to 
a pool of water, crimsoned with blood, refreshed themselves, and has- 
tened back to the conflict. 

Meanwhile many of the houses had taken fire, which was making 
terrible ravages among the Indians. Those who were within doors 
were consumed by the flames or stifled by the smoke. The females 
now took part in the melee, and could be seen fighting side by side 
with their husbands and brothers. 

It was now sunset, and the fierce glare of the raging flames, the 
hideous yells of the combatants, the shrill cries of the wounded, the 
groans of the dying, the shrieks of burning wretches, the clash of 
arms, all combined to present a fearful scene. Still the savages would 
not fly. Thousands perished in the flames ; the village streets were 
covered with bodies, their numbers were reduced to mere scattering, 
isolated parties, and yet they would not yield. At last all had fallen 
but one man. He turned to fly, mounted the village walls, but see- 
ing himself surrounded, he took the string from his bow, passed it 
around his neck, fastened it to a tree at hand, and, ere he could be 
prevented, swung off into the air. Thus ended this bloodly battle, 
Which lasted for nine hours. Eighty Spaniards fell in the conflict, 



08 HERNANDO DE SOTO. 

and, had it not been for their armor, all must have been massacred 
As it was, all were wounded, including De Soto himself, who received 
an arrow in his thigh, which he could not extract, but yet he never 
ceased his efforts. The havoc among the Indians was terrible. The| 
plain around the village was strewn with bodies, and within the 
walls the streets were blocked up by the dead. A great number 
were consumed in the houses. In one building alone a thousand per- 
ished. 

For many days the Spaniards remained in the town recruiting 
their strength, and waiting for the healing of their wounds. At lasl 
they resumed their march. With some chiefs they made peace, with 
others they had to fight their way through their lands. Rivers, 
morasses and dense forests were passed, and many bloody battle? 
were fought. 

In April, 1541, they came to a village called Chisca and, here, for 
the first time, did an European look upon the mighty Mississippi. That 
event has more surely enrolled the name of De Soto in American 
history, than if he had discovered mines of gold and silver. 

But they crossed this great river, and plunged into the deep forests 
on its western shores. On, on still they pursued their course, with 
visions of wealth still alluring them on. Battles are fought, Indian 
tribes conciliated. But still they traverse those wild forest tracts. 
But at last maladies break out among them, their numbers have be- 
come fearfully reduced, they have left the " Father of Waters" hun- 
dreds of miles behind them, and still no gold nor silver, and so their 
spirits fail and they are seised with melancholy and despair. No 
longer the gay, glittering troop, but the desponding, weak and sickly 
stragglers. At last, they determine to retrace their steps to the Mis- 
sissippi and there found a village, build fortifications and establish 
themselves securely until they can receive assistance from Spain. 
They do so, and once more stand upon the banks of the great river. 

They begin to carry out their designs, and commence to build two 
vessels that may convey part of them to Spain to bring back recruits, 
when a great misfortune befalls them. De Soto, the indomnitable, 
just, prudent leader, is seized with a fever, and there, upon the shores 
of the river he discovered, in the midst of a wild wilderness, ends his 
visions of wealth and glory. He dies ! How proud and promising 



HERNANDO DE SOTO. 101 

had been the commencement of his career ! how humble and hope- 
less its close ! 

They feared to bury De Soto in the ground, as the Indians would 
discover the body and outrage his remains. It was thus they had 
served other Spanish bodies. "For this reason they buried him in the 
river, at the dead of night, with sentinels posted to keep the natives 
at a distance, that the sad ceremony might be safe from the observ- 
ance of spies. His body was conveyed to the center of the river. 
The hooded priests and steel clad cavaliers gathered around the re- 
mains of the chief who had led them through all their perilous wan- 
derings, and they committed his body to the stream, watching it sink 
to the bottom through scalding tears, and, commending the soul of 
the good cavalier to Heaven, they sadly worked their way back to 
the shore. " The discoverer of the Mississippi slept beneath its Avaters. 
He had crossed a large part of the continent in search of gold, and 
found nothing so remarkable as his burial place." 

His survivors again attempted to explore the western wilds, failed 
in their hopes, once more retraced their steps, their course marked 
by the most terrible sufferings, and fearful dangers, and, at last, again 
reached the Mississippi shore. Here they built vessels, their progress 
interrupted by battles with the natives, embarked and sailed to the 
ocean, their course marked with difficulties and fearful losses. A 
poor, miserable remnant of them at last reached the Spanish town of 
Parruco, in Mexico. 

Such was the fruitless and tragical end of the vaunted conquest of 
Florida : one of the most splendid and chivalrous expeditions to the 
new world, and one of the most disastrous. How different, how 
widely different was the end of this brilliant enterprise, compared to 
that which ensued from the landing of a few fugitives on the same 
coast a few years later. The first attended with pomp, display 
and brilliant promises, ended, as we have related ; the other, unas- 
suming, hopeless and gloomy, resulted in the establishment of one 
of the mightiest empires on the face of the earth.* 

* Such of the proceeding was compiled from Theodore Irving's Conquest of Florida. 



102 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 

The name and adventures of Capt. John Smith, are familiar to every 
American ; but so romantic was his career and extraordinary his ex- 
ploits, they always possess a certain charm, and never lose their in- 
terest, however familiar they may be to the reader. 

Ho was born in England, in the year 1579, and at a very early 
age began to show his fondness for adventure. His military ardor 
was so great, that he at last set out with the determination of fight- 
ing the Turks, whom all good christians in those days considered aa 
their natural enemies. While on his travels he met with considerable 
adventure, but at last he reached the armies of Rodolph, Emperor oi 
Germany, who was waging war on Mahomet the Third. 

Smith's desire to display his prowess against the Turks, was soon 
gratified. Count Maldritch had laid siege to Regal, which was long 
and obstinate, owing to the great strength of the place. At last, 
Lord Turbashaw, one of the Turks, sent a challenge to the christian 
army for any captain to meet him in single combat ; giving as a rea- 
son, that it was to delight the ladies of Regal, "who did long to see 
some court-like pastime." The privilege to accept this challenge fell 
upon Smith, who greatly rejoiced at this opportunity of achieving 
honor in the sight of the army.* 

On the day appointed for the combat, the ramparts of the town 
were lined with ladies and soldiers. The Lord Turbashaw entered 
the lists in a splendid suit of armor, blazing with gold and jew- 
els. He was attended by three janisaries. Smith soon followed, at- 
tended by a single page. At the sound of the trumpets, they met in 
mid career, and the well-directed lance of Smith pierced through the 
visor into the brain of the Turk, and he fell dead from his horse, 
without having shed a drop of his adversary's blood. 

Lord Turbashaw's death created considerable consternation in the 
town, and one, named Grualgo, came forth to avenge his fall. IIi> 
challenge was accepted, and the next day fixed upon for the combat 
At the first encounter their lances were ineffectually shivered, though 

* Compiled from Sparks* Biography. 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 103 

the turk was nearly unhorsed. They next discharged their pistols, 
by which Smith was slightly, and his antagonist severely wounded. 
He soon fell beneath the superior prowess of Smith, and his horse 
and armor, as by agreement, fell to the victor. 

Another opportunity was offered for signalizing himself, by the 
acceptance of his challenge by a remarkably stout champion in the 
Turkish garrison. This time the weapons selected were battle axes, 
pistols and swords. Smith labored under a disadvantage in the use 
of the battle axe, but by skilful horsemanship avoided the ponderous 
blows aimed at him by his antagonist, and ran him through the body, 
thus being for the third time victorious. These exploits won him 
great renown. 

IMPRISONMENT AND ESCAPE. 

In a hapless battle with the Turks, Smith was taken prisoner, sold 
to the Bashaw Bogall, who sent him as a present to his mistress. 
This lady conceived a sincere sympathy for her captive slave, and 
won by his fascinating manners, she began to entertain an affection 
for him. To avoid the discovery of this to her mother, she des- 
patched him to her brother, with a note, requesting his kind treat- 
ment, and also expressing her sentiments of regard for him. This 
enraged her haughty brother, who heaped the greater cruelties upon 
Smith. He was employed to thresh corn in the country, and while 
at work, whenever his master passed him, he would inflict a severe 
blow upon his back. His ill-treatment on one occasion was so out- 
rageous, that Smith, maddened and transported beyond the bounds 
of reason, by a sense of insult, and reckless of consequences, and 
knowing that his miserable condition could not be changed for the 
worse, rose against him and beat out his brains with his threshing-flail. 
He then clothed himself in the rich attire of the slain Timor, hid his 
body under the straw, filled a knapsack with corn, mounted his 
horse, and galloped off to the desert. Here he wandered about for 
many days in utter loneliness and despair, but eventually stumbled 
upon the main road which leads from Tartary to Bussia. After a 
perilous journey of sixteen days, he reached a Bussian garrison. 

SAILS TO THE NEW WORLD. 

At this time the world was resounding with the great discoveries 



104 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 

made by Columbus and Cabot. The spirit of enterprise was looking 
to the wildernesses of the Western Continent as the field for its ad- 
ventures. The extravagant stories of the treasures found in the new 
land, of the marvellous beauty of the soil, and delights of the climate, 
could not fail to excite the enthusiastic and sanguine temperament of 
Smith. We find, therefore, that the plan for a settlement in North 
America, enlisted the attention of our hero. In December, 1616, he 
was one of a party who set sail for the English colony of Virginia. 
They discovered land in April, 1607, which they named Cape Henry. 
They sailed into the James River, and explored it for the space of 
forty miles from its mouth. The appearance of the country on each 
side filled them with delight. It was fertile and well watered, the 
landscape picturesquely varied with hills, valleys and plains, and new- 
ly decked with the green mantle of spring. They met a number of 
Indians on their route, but were received peacefully. They at last 
pitched on a place for their settlement about forty miles up the river, 
and called it Jamestown. This was actually the first beginning of 
the history of this country, one hundred and ten years after its dis- 
covery by Sebastian Cabot, and twenty-two years after the first at- 
tempt to colonize it by Sir Walter Raleigh. 

HIS FIRST ADVENTURE AMONG THE INDIANS. 

The provisions of the colonists becoming exceedingly low, Smith 
resolved to make search for a fresh supply. Attended by only five 
or six men he went down the river in a boat to Kecoughton. The 
natives, aware of their condition, treated them with contempt as 
poor, starved creatures, and when invited to traffic, would scoffiingly 
give them a handful of corn or a piece of bread in exchange for their 
swords, muskets and clothing. Finding that a peaceful demeanor 
only produced insult and contumely, Smith ordered his men to dis- 
charge their muskets among them, which caused the affrighted In- 
dians to take shelter in the woods. He found the houses supplied 
with corn, but refrained from touching it. Presently sixty or seventy 
of the Indians appeared, all armed, and they boldly advanced upon 
the English, who received them with a volley of musketry, which 
again put them to flight. They sent a priest to make propositions 
for peace. It was yielded on consideration that they should fill his 
boat with corn, in exchange for hatchets, beads, &c. 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 105 

EXPEDITION UP THE CHICKAHOMMY RIVER, AND 
CAPTIVITY. 

He proceeded up the river as far as his barge could float, reaching 
that point with great labor, having been obliged to cut his way 
through the trees which had fallen into the river. Leaving the barge 
securely moored, with strict orders to his men not to leave his boat 
until his return, and taking with him two Indians as guides, and two 
Englishmen, he sailed higher up in a canoe. This he left, and went 
up along the stream in quest of game, taking the guides with him. 

The men he had left in the barge, disobeying his injunctions, strag- 
gled into the woods, and were attacked by a party of Indians who 
slew them all. They then proceeded up to whore the canoe lay, and 
despatched the two Englishmen who were sleeping in it. Erom this 
they went in search of Smith and at last came upon him. Finding 
himself beset with numbers, he bound one of his Indian guides to his 
left arm with his garters, as a buckler, and defended himself so skill- 
fully with his gun, that he killed three and wounded many others. 
His enemies retreated, and he endeavored to reach his canoe, but in 
his flight sunk into a deep morass. Even here his enemies did not 
dare approach him, but being almost dead with cold, and perfectly 
helpless, he at last threw away his arms and surrendered. 

In expectation of death he demanded to see their chief, and upon 
being brought before him, displayed to him a pocket compass, which 
so amused and surprised the Indians that they looked upon him with 
reverence. He was led in a kind of triumphal procession through 
several villages, and exhibited to their inhabitants. 

At last they brought him to Werowocomoco, the residence of 
Powhatan. Upon his arrival in the village, he was detained, until 
the Indian emperor and his court could make proper arrangements 
to receive their captive in state. Meanwhile he was surrounded by 
those who came to gaze upon him as if he had been a monster. 
Powhatan, who was about sixty years of age, was " every inch a 
king." His figure was noble, his stature majestic, and his counte- 
nance full of the severity and haughtiness of a ruler. He received 
Captain Smith with imposing, though rude ceremony. 

Upon being brought before this potentate, who was mounted on a 
kind of throne, and surrounded by his court, a long consultation was 



106 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 

held 10 determine our hero's fate. The decision was against him. 
Two large stones were brought in and placed before Powhatan, and 
Smith was dragged up to them, and his head was placed upon them, 
that his brains might be beaten out with a club. The fatal weapons 
were already raised, and the grim executioners looked for the signal, 
which was to end the still undaunted captain's career, when an un- 
looked for interruption saved the life of Smith, who seemed to be 
destined for scenes of fearful danger for no other reason than mira- 
culous salvation. Pochahontas, a beautiful princess of only thirteen 
years of age, and the favorite daughter of the king, moved to com- 
passion for the " pale face," and finding that her piteous entreaties 
for his life were unavailing, rushed forward, clasped his head in her 
arms, and laid her own upon it, resolved to save his life or share his 
fate. The heart of her father was touched, and he was spared. 

" The account of this beautiful and most touching scene, familiar as 
it is to every one, can hardly be read with unmoistened eyes. The 
incident is so dramatic and startling, that it seems to preserve the 
freshness of novelty amidst a thousand repetitions. We could almost 
as reasonably expect an angel to have come down from heaven and 
rescue the captive, as that his deliverer should have sprung from the 
bosom of Powhatan's family. The universal sympathies of mankind 
and the best feelings of the human heart have redeemed this scene 
from the obscurity which, in the progress of time, gathers over all, 
but the most important events. It has pointed a thousand morals, 
and adorned a thousand tales. Innumerable bosoms have throbbed, 
and are yet to throb with generous admiration for the daughter of a 
people, whom we have been too ready to underrate."* 

The generous Powhatan afterwards released Smith, and he re- 
turned to Jamestown. 

ADVENTURES, INCIDENTS, &C. 

Smith's absence from Jamestown was always attended with evil 
consequences to the colony. The moment his back was turned the 
unruly spirits, whom he alone could curb, would break out into dis- 
affection and mutiny. All was in confusion when he returned. The 
colony was split into two factions, the stronger of which was pre- 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 107 

paring to quit the country in the bark. Smith, at the risk of his life, 
defeated their project, by bringing his cannon to bear upon the bark 
and threatening to sink her if they did not stay. 

The friendship of Pochahontas was now of great avail to the colony. 
She frequently came to the village attended by numerous women and 
brought large quantities of provisions, thereby saving the lives of 
many that otherwise would have perished with hunger. 

Smith afterwards visited Powhatan, and was received with great 
state and pomp. 

In the ensuing spring he attempted to explore the Chesapeake Bay. 
This expedition was attended with great danger and hardships. They 
discovered the Patapsco and the Potomac rivers. This latter river 
they proceeded to explore. For thirty miles they found no Indians, 
but afterwards were led by two Indians up a little creek where they 
found themselves surrounded by three or four thousand of the natives. 
Their demeanor was very menacing, but Smith ordering their musk- 
ets to be discharged, they were put to flight. They presently return- 
ed and made offers of peace. The English sailed up the river as far as 
they could go, and then returned. They were frequently exposed to 
the treacherous assaults of the savages, but Captain Smith's boldness, 
presence of mind, and judgment usually averted serious consequences. 

On another expedition he explored the Patapsco. In this expe- 
dition, as in the others, he met with numerous adventures with the 
natives, and had a number of skirmishes. But in all cases where the 
friendship of the Indians could be secured, it was done. 

ADVENTURE WITH POWHATAN. 

The scarcity of provisions at last induced Captain Smith to go on ' 
an expedition to Powhatan, to either negotiate for or compel sup- 
plies. Four hundred bushels of corn had been promised them which 
was refused, and upon this Smith resolved to obtain possession of 
Powhatan, and hold him as a hostage for guarantee of future supplies. 
Upon their arrival at the village where Powhatan resided, he re- 
ceived them well, but it was soon apparent that some treachery was 
afoot. Indeed, Powhatan had learned of Smith's intention and was 
determined to forstall it. Powhatan with many protestations of 
friendship attempted to induce the English to leave their arms behind 
them in their boats, alleging as a reason that his people were afraid 
5 



108 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 

of them, and could not be induced to come forward with their corn 
while the white men bore their instruments of warfare about them. 
Smith avoided the request. A contest of ingenuity ensued between 
the two chieftains. At last, suspecting the faithlessness of the Indian, 
Smith sent word for the balance of his men in the boats, to embark 
for the shore. This alarmed Powhatan, and he escaped from the 
house where the conference was held, leaving some women to dis- 
tract the attention of Smith while he eiFected his object. Meanwhile 
a large body of warriors began to assemble around the building. 
Upon perceiving this, Smith, suspecting treachery, at once sallied out, 
armed with sword, pistol and target, with which, as Ave are told, "he 
made such a passage among those naked devils, that, at his first shot, 
they next him, tumbled one over another, and the rest quickly fled, 
some one way, some another." He reached the main body of his 
men without injury. 

The Indians now attempted to put a fair construction on their acts. 
They offered to exchange with him corn for beads, hatchets, &c, and 
brought it down to the boats themselves. But the whites still 
feared an attack, and as the night was drawing on, they resolved to 
be watchful and cautious. Their suspicions were well founded, for 
during the night Pochahontas, still true to the whites, came to Smith 
and revealed the design of her father. The heroic conduct of this 
princess is not emblazoned on a monument, but it lives fresh and ad- 
miringly in the hearts of the generous throughout the world. But 
for her devotion there can be no doubt the English colony at James- 
town would have been all destroyed, and the settlement of the coun- 
try again delayed for many years. 

The English were allowed to sail for Jamestown unmolested, as 
their watchfulness prevented an attack. 

ADVENTURE WITH OPECHANCANOUGH. 

On their return they visited the Indian chief Opechancanough for 
the purpose of traffic. While in the house confederating. Mr. Russel, 
one of the party, came suddenly in and with a face of alarm, told 
Captain Smith that they were all lost, for several hundred armed men 
had environed the house, and were swarming in the fields. Smith 
ever equal to an emergency, immediately proposed to the chief that 
they should go out into the fields and decide the matter by single 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 109 

combat. The chief refused, but endeavored to quiet Smith's suspi- 
cions, and proposed him to come outside of the door, and examine a 
present he had for him there. But Smith had detected the presence 
of a large number of men, with arrows on the string, ready to des- 
patch him the moment he should appear, and undaunted at this pros- 
pect, suddenly seized the chief by the hair, clapped a pistol to his 
breast, led him out before his people, and threatened to kill him at 
once if his subjects did not immediately throw down their arms. 
This bold movement completely terrified the Indians, and they at once 
submitted. This was probably one of the most striking evidences of 
Smith's great qualities for the dangerous office he held, as head of the 
English colony. It was such admirable coolness and boldness that 
saved the settlement a hundred times over. 

The Indians now came around him with such promises and such 
quantities of corn, that he at last became wearied, dismissed them, and 
fell asleep in the house. His guard being weary, the treachery of the 
savages was again on the alert, and they entered the house in great 
numbers to beat him to death with clubs. The noise they made 
awakened him, and he sprang up, and with his sword at once put 
them to flight. 

OTHER ADVENTURES. 

Smith continued to preside over the colony, frequently preserving 
it from destruction, by his daring, or his prudence. After a time he 
sailed to England, from which place he made a tour to New England, 
on the return from which he was taken captive by a French vessel. 
On board of this he was compelled to remain all summer. They 
took him into the harbor of Eochelle, but still he was kept a prisoner. 
He soon, however, managed to effect his escape. A violent storm 
had arisen whose "pitiless pelting" drove all the people below; and 
as soon as it was dark, he pushed off from the ship in a boat, with a 
half-pike for an oar, hoping to reach the shore. But he fell into a 
strong current which carried him out to sea, where he was exposed 
to great danger, in a small, crazy boat, when the storm was so vio- 
lent as to strew the coast with wrecks. Twelve hours he passed in 
this fearful state, expecting every moment to be engulphed, until the 
change of tide carried him on a marshy island, where he was found 



110 MARY. 

by some fowlers, nearly drowned, and totally exhausted with cold, 
fatigue, and hunger. From this he reached Rochelle, and from thence 
to England. Here terminates his remarkable adventures, and we 
must leave him. 



MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 

DARNLEY, RIZZIO, BOTHWELL. 

The history of Mary Stuart is one of 'the saddest recorded on the 
pages of history. Possessing great beauty, a fascinating manner, 
deep sensibility, and brilhant talents, her career was spent in an 
endless controversy with her enemies, who were numerous, and in 
mourning over the hapless fates of her friends. Born to sovereignty 
and command, her life was mostly passed in captivity, and ended in 
an ignominious death. With a wonderful power of fascination which 
few could withstand, and which even subdued the stern, iron-minded 
reformer, Knox, who on no other occasion had ever yielded to such 
influences, she still found herself surrounded by the bitterest of ene- 
mies. But it is not our office to enter into her history. We have 
merely to deal with the striking and remarkable incidents of her 
life. 

But as a striking instance of the power her charms swayed over 
her attendants, we cannot refrain from relating the story of Chate- 
lard. "He had come in her train from France, and was a scholar and 
a poet. He became so fascinated with her that his love amounted to 
infatuation. He poured out his passion in burning verses which she 
read, and seeming to be pleased with them, fanned his flame. Fi- 
nally, deluded with the belief that his love was returned, he concealed 
himself one night in her bed-chamber. He was discovered however, 
and Mary professed to be very much displeased. But some nights 
after as the queen was entering her room, he followed directly in. 
Mary called for help. The attendants came in, and immediately sent 
for the Earl of Murray, who was in the palace. Chatelard protested 
that all he wanted was to explain and apologize for his coming into 



MARY. Ill 

Mary's room before, and to ask her to forgive him. Mary, however, 
would not listen. She was very much incensed. When Murray 
came in, she directed him to run his dagger through the man. Mur- 
ray, however, instead of doing this, had the offender seized and sent 
to prison. In a few days he was tried, and condemned to be be- 
headed. The excitement and enthusiasm of his love continued to 
the last. He stood firm and undaunted on the scaffold, and, just be- 
fore he laid his head on the block, he turned toward the place where 
Mary was then lodging, and said, ' Farewell ! loveliest and most cruel 
princess that the world contains !' " 

RIZZIO AND DAENLEY. 

Some time after this Mary was married to Lord Darnley, this being 
her second husband. Francis of France, her first wedded lord, had 
died prior to her departure from that country. This Darnley was a 
weak minded man, who practised every conceivable cruelty on the 
queen, and embittered her life. She was attended by a secretary from 
Savoy, called Rizzio, of whom the queen was very fond, and who bore 
a sincere attachment to his mistress. Some have pronounced the con- 
nection a guilty one, others not. Well, this person's influence with 
the queen not only excited the jealousy of her husband, but created 
a malignant envy in the minds of the Scottish lords about her court. 
To such an extent was this carried that the destruction of Rizzio was 
planned between Darnley and them. 

One evening Mary was at supper. Two near relatives and Rizzio 
were present, and some servants in attendance. The room was 
small, and had a private stairway which led to it, and also communi- 
cated with Darnley's room on the floor underneath. Ruthven and 
Morton, two of the bloody conspirators, had armed men ready for 
service, gathered in this room. It will be remembered that the event 
we are about to describe, took place in Holyrood palace. The castle 
still stands, and the room where the tragedy was enacted is pointed 
out to the visitor. 

" About eight o'clock Darnley came up into the room to make ob- 
servations. It was agreed that if Darnley should remain any reason- 
able length of time that it would be a sign all was right, and that the 
conspirators should follow him at once. They were to enter by the 



112 MARY. 

private stairway, and despatch their business without delay. Find- 
ing that Darnley did not return, Euthven with his party ascended the 
stairs, and entered the bed-chamber. The queen, alarmed, demanded 
the meaning of this intrusion. Euthven, whose countenance was 
grim and ghastly from the conjoined influence of ferocious passion 
and disease, said that they meant no harm to her, but they only 
wanted the villain who stood near her. Eizzio perceived that his 
hour was come. The attendants flocked in to the assistance of the 
queen and Eizzio. Euthven's confederates advanced to join in the 
attack, and there ensued one of those scenes of confusion and terror, 
of which those who witness it have no distinct recollection on looking 
back upon it when it is over. Eizzio cried out in an agony of fear, 
and sought refuge behind the queen ; the queen herself fainted ; the 
table was overturned; and Eizzio, having received one wound from 
a dagger, was seized and dragged to the door, where he fell down, 
and was stabbed by the murderers again and again, till he ceased to 
breathe. 

" After this scene was over, Darnley and Euthven came cooly back 
into Mary's chamber, and began to justify their act of violence. A 
violent scene ensued, in which the queen upbraided Darnley for mur- 
dering her devoted friend, and told him she had raised him from 
humble rank to make him her husband, and this was her return. The 
conspirators now attacked the other friends of Mary, but most of them 
escaped. Mary was kept a prisoner." 

Lord Darriey now determined to assume the reins of government 
into his own hands, an end he had been long attempting, but had 
always been thwarted by Mary. But he soon found himself, as well 
as Mary, in the hands of the conspirators. Finding his friends had 
turned against him, he went to the queen, smoothed over his con- 
nection with Eizzio's murder, and they mutually resolved to escape. 
They did so, fled to a distant castle, gathered around them their ad- 
herents, marched upon the conspirators, and put them to flight. 

darnley's murder. 

The Earl of Both well was a man of great energy of character, fear- 
less and decided in all that he undertook, and sometimes perfectly 
reckless and uncontrollable. But he was ardently devoted to Mary, 



MARY. 115 

and assisted her with an army against the conspirators. It soon be- 
gan to be whispered that he was in love with Mary. Darnley and 
the queen continued their old animosities, and her life was made as 
miserable as it could well be. At last Bothwell, who now made no 
secrecy of his attachment to his sovereign, conceived a plan for the 
murder of Darnley, after which he resolved to get a divorce from his 
own wife, and marry the queen. Her enemies state that she was 
privy to the murder, and instrumental in its consummation, but her 
friends have always denied the charge. Be that as it may, we have 
only to do with the deed itself. 

Darnley was taken sick at Glasgow, and it was proposed that he 
should be removed to Edinburgh. He was carried there in a litter, 
and as he was in such bad terms with the lords and nobles, he would 
not go to Holyrood Castle, but ordered a house to be especially fitted 
up for his accommodation. It was done so, and he removed to it, 
occupying the suite of rooms on the second floor, while those on the 
first floor, were appropriated to the use of the Queen. 

" The plan of the murder was, to have placed a quantity of gun- 
powder in the house, and upon a certain evening, when it was known 
Mary would be absent, to have it fired. Bothwell selected a number 
of desperate characters to aid him in ■ the actual work to be done. 
One of these was a Frenchman, who had been for a long time in his 
service, and who went commonly by the name of French Paris. 
Bothwell contrived to get French Paris taken into Mary's service a 
few days before the murder of Darnley, and through him, he got pos- 
session of some of the keys of the house which Darnley was occupy- 
ing, and thus had duplicates of them made, so that he had access to 
every part of the house. The gunpowder was brought from Both- 
well's castle at Dunbar, and all was ready. 

" On a certain Sunday evening, it was known that Mary had to 
attend a wedding at Holyrood. This occasion was fixed upon for 
the execution of this infamous plan. At about eleven o'clock, the 
Queen departed, and at once these desperate characters commenced 
their work. The gunpowder was concealed in the garden, and it 
took but a few moments to have it removed into Mary's room, di- 
rectly under the apartment where the sick Darnley was lying. A 
slow match of lint was made, ignited, and the murderers retired into 
the gardens to await the result. A long interval seemed to ensue, 



116 MARY. 

when at last the explosion came like a sudden slap of thunder. The 
flash brightened the whole sky for an instant^ and the report roused 
the sleeping inhabitants of Edinburgh, throwing the whole city into 
consternation." 

After this, as history relates, Bothwell married the Queen. This 
step caused great discontent, and a large number of the nobles, head- 
ed by the Earl of Murray, protested against it. The lords called them- 
selves the Princes' lords, and announced their determination to pre- 
serve the rights of the Queen's infant son, the heir to the throne, from 
the machinations of this Bothwell. Their numbers increased so that 
Bothwell with Mary, was obliged to retreat to his stronghold at Dun- 
bar, where the Earl of Murray followed him. A contest was about to 
ensue between Murray and Bothwell, which would have been very 
unequal, as Murray's party far out-numbered Bothwell's, when the 
Queen surrendered herself into the hands of her lords. Bothwell was 
allowed to depart. He afterwards was obliged to fly from "the coun- 
try, and subsequently turned pirate. 

Mary was conveyed as a prisoner to Edinburgh. She was very 
unpopular, and the majority of the people accused her of a hand in 
Darnley's murder. As she rode into Edinburgh, she was reproached 
and taunted by the populace. She was afterwards removed to Loch- 
Leven Castle. 

" Murray's party now attempted to force her to sign her abdication 
of the throne, in favor of her infant son, appointing Murray as regent, 
They first tried persuasions and then threats. Melville, and Lindsay, 
one of the murderers of Rizzio, were entrusted with the negotiations. 
She refused to yield to Melville's persuasions, and Lindsay was called 
in. He entered with a determined air. Mary was reminded of the 
terrible night when he and Ruthven broke into her little supper-room 
at Holyrood in quest of Rizzio. She was agitated and alarmed. 
Lindsay assailed her with denunciations and threats of the most vio- 
lent character. There ensued a scene of the most rough and ferocious 
passion on the one side, and of anguish, terror, and despair on the 
the other, which is said to have made this day the most wretched of 
all the wretched days of Mary's life. Sometimes she sat pale, mo- 
tionless, and almost stupified. At others, she was overwhelmed with 
sorrow and tears. She finally yielded ; and, taking the pen, she 
signed the papers." 



117 



HER ESCAPE. 



"Four days after, on the 29th of July 1567, the infant James was 
crowned. Meanwhile, she remained in captivity, in Loch-leven Cas- 
tle. This castle was on a small island, in the middle of a lake. It 
was in charge of Lady Douglass. She had two sons, George and Wil- 
liam, who took a strong interest in the captive Queen. They resolved 
to- plan her escape, and had conferences with Mary. Their plan was 
at length ripe for execution. It was arranged thus : on the day when 
Mary was to attempt her escape, a servant was brought by one of 
the castle boats from the shore with a bundle of clothes for Mary. 
Mary, whose health and strength had been impaired by her confine- 
ment and sufferings, was often in her bed. She was so at this time, 
though perhaps she was feigning now more feebleness than she really 
felt. The servant came into her apartment, and undressed herself, 
while Mary rose, took the dress which she had laid aside, and put it 
on as a disguise. The woman took Mary's place in bed. Mary 
covered her face with a muffler, and, taking another bundle in her 
hand to assist in her disguise, she passed across the court, issued from 
the castle gate, went to the landing stairs, and stepped into the boat 
for the men to row her to the shore. 

" The oarsmen, who belonged to the castle, supposing that all was 
right, pushed off, and began to row toward the land. As they were 
crossing the water, however, they observed that their passenger was 
very particular to keep her face covered, and attempted to pull away 
the muffler, saying, ' Let us see what kind of a looking damsel this 
is.' Mary, in alarm, put up her hands to her face to hold the muffler 
there. The smooth, white, and delicate fingers, revealed to the men 
at once, that they were carrying away a lady in disguise. Mary, 
finding that concealment was no longer possible, dropped her muffler, 
looked upon the men with composure and dignity, told them that she 
was their Queen, that they were bound by their allegiance to her to 
obey her commands, and she commanded them to go on and row her 
to the shore. But they conceived their allegiance rather due to the 
lord of the castle, and insisted upon rowing her back. She could but 
yield, and thus the plan proved unsuccessful. 

" But they did not despair. Another one was adopted. A window 
looked out from Mary's room, directly over the water. George 



118 MARY. 

Douglass brought a boat one night beneath this window. The win- 
dow was a kind of postern, guarded by an iron gate, which was kept 
locked. William Douglass, within the castle, managed to obtain pos- 
session of the keys, and opened the postern, and she was taken down 
the walls by George Douglass. Her maid, Jane Kennedy, leapt after 
her, which was a great feat, but was accomplished without serious 
consequences. 

" The boat pushed off immediately, and the Douglases began to 
pull hard for the shore. They threw the keys of the castle into the 
lake, as if the impossibility of recovering them, in that case, made the 
imprisonment of the family more secure. The whole party, were of 
course, in the highest state of excitement and agitation. Jane Ken- 
nedy helped to row, and it is said that even Mary applied her strength 
to one of the oars. 

" They landed safely on the south side of the loch. Several of her 
devoted lords were ready there to receive the fugitive. They mount- 
ed her on horseback, and galloped away. There was a strong party 
to escort her. They rode hard all night, and the next morning they 
arrived safely at Hamilton. ' Now,' said Mary, ' I am once more a 
Queen.' 

" It was true. She was again a Queen. Popular feeling ebbs and 
flows with prodigious force, and the change from one state to the 
other depends, sometimes, on very accidental causes. The news of 
Mary's escape spread rapidly over the land. Her friends were en- 
couraged and emboldened. Sympathies, long dormant and inert were 
awakened in her favor. She issued a proclamation, stating that as 
her abdication had been forced from her, it was null and void. Her 
friends flocked to her, and she was soon at the head of an army of six 
thousand. The Earl of Murray refused to surrender the regency. A 
battle ensued between Mary and Murray, in which the forces of the 
Queen were defeated. She was obliged to escape from the ground, 
and rode toward the sea shore. Here a fishing boat was provided, 
and with her train of some twenty followers, she took sail for the 
English shore, and for the last time saw her native land." 

She threw herself into the hands of Elizabeth of England, who cast 
her into captivity. Then ensued a fearfully long imprisonment of 
over eighteen years. On a pretence of treasonable conspiracies, she 
was then brought to trial by Elizabeth, adjudged guilty, and con- 



GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS. 119 

deruned to execution. In a short time, one of the bloodiest, and 
most infamous acts recorded in history, was consummated, and the 
once blooming, beautiful and fascinating Mary, ended her career on a 



GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS, 

SURNAMKD THE GREAT, KING OF SWEDEN. 

G-ustavus Adolphus, who afterwards assumed so important a part 
in the politics of Germany, was born on the 9 th of December, 1594. 
He soon began to manifest those qualities that afterwards won 
him immortal honor, as the defender of the Protestant faith in the 
North. 

" "When only seventeen years of age, he accompanied his father on 
an expedition against the Danes. At the head of a small body of 
troops, he landed on the Isle of Oeland, which, together with the 
Castle of Borkholun, he speedily recovered from the Danes ; and a 
fortunate accident shortly afterwards occurring, induced him to make 
an attempt to surprise the strong fort of Avesker in Blekingia. A 
dispatch from the governor was intercepted by the Swedes, in which 
he requested the king of Denmark, to send him a body of five hun- 
dred horse, to stop the progress of the enemy, who were laying the 
whole of the surrounding district under contribution. Gustavus, after 
reading the letter, disguised an equal number of ■his own cavalry, 
with Danish dresses and ensigns, — and assuming the command of the 
detachment in person, set out at nightfall towards the fortress. The 
sentinels stationed on the walls imagining the body of horse they saw 
before them, advancing in the glimmering twilight, to be the expected 
reinforcement, suffered them to approach near enough to affix a pe- 
tard to the gates ; and the assailants rushing in sword and hand, im- 
mediately after the explosion, easily bore down all opposition, and 
made themselves masters of the place. In this attempt, however, 
G-ustavus met with an accident, which had nearly cut short his mili- 
cary career at its very commencement. While passing over a frozen 



120 GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS. 

morass, the ice suddenly gave way beneath his horse's feet, and the 
animal plunging still deeper into the mire, in his attempts to extri- 
cate himself, placed his rider, who was encumbered with his armor, 
in a situation of great peril, from which he was not released without 
considerable difficulty. 

"Greater triumphs would probably have been achieved by the 
young Prince had he not shortly after this been summoned to the 
death-bed of his father, which took place in October, 1611. Upon 
the death of his father he immediately ascended the throne. 

" At the investment of Dantzig, in the invasion of Prussia, while 
employed in examining the country around the walls of the city, his 
too great negligence of his own safety had again nearly deprived his- 
tory of some of the most striking events in her annals, and Europe of 
the benefits it was shortly to receive through his instrumentality. 
While reconnoitering the opposite bank of the Vistula in a small boat, 
he was imprudent enough to venture within musket shot of the for- 
tress, from the battlements of which he was immediately saluted by a 
shower of balls, directed against the vessel in which he was conveyed. 
One of these struck the king a little above the right hip, but having 
been fired in an oblique direction, after taking its course between the 
muscles and integuments, it passed out at the other side by a corres- 
ponding wound. At first the king thought himself mortally wound- 
ed, but upon the examination of the wound its true nature was dis- 
covered. But after a few days confinement he returned to the army; 
but he had scarcely re-appeared on the scene of action, when a second 
injury, far more serious than the first, occurred to him. While ex- 
amining with his glass a position of the enemy a random shot took 
effect in his shoulder, and prostrated him to the earth, jarring his right 
arm at the same time so severely, that he at first believed it had been 
carried off by a cannon ball. The wound, when examined, was found 
to be of a most dangerous description, since the bullet had passed 
close beneath the clavicle, and within two finger's breadth of the 
wind-pipe ; while, from the quantity of blood which the king con- 
tinued to discharge from his mouth and nostrils, it was feared that 
Borne of the more important vessels had been injured, and that it 
would be impossible to stop the haemorrhage. He was slowly con- 
veyed to Dirscham, still bleeding copiously all the way, to the con- 
sternation of those about him, who had placed a rude dressing upon 



GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS. 121 

the wound until better medical aid should arrive. When the king's 
surgeon removed the bandage and perceived the extent of the mis- 
chief done to his patient, he could not help bursting out into angry 
exclamations, repeating that he had long ago predicted the conse- 
quences of his rashness, and that his words were now on the point 
of being verified. He also expressed his fear that the ball had pene- 
trated too deep for extraction, to which the king replied, ' It is well. 
Let it still remain, as a monument that my life has not been spent 
in inaction, or in a manner unworthy my station. A resolute mind, 
and a body unweakened by luxury, best become the character of a 
king.' Three months passed away before he was sufficiently recov- 
ered to take the field again. 

" Nothing perhaps shines out so brightly in the character of Gus- 
tavus as his great humanity. The excesses of his army were always 
restrained, and his captives universally subjected to a humane and 
benevolent treatment. In carrying Massonia by storm he displayed 
his customary humanity during the fury of the assault by throwing 
himself into the midst of the incensed victors, and rescuing a number 
of Polish ladies from outrage, at the same time severely upbraiding 
his soldiers with their unmanly violence. These prisoners were 
shortly afterwards dismissed upon their verbal engagements to for- 
ward a stipulated ransom to their captors." 

"We next find G-ustavus as the defender of the Protestant cause 
in the great war that convulsed G-ermany for thirty years. The great 
questions then at issue are of too complicated a nature for us to ex- 
plain in our brief article, and as we have only to do with the per- 
sonal adventures of the Swedish king, we must refer the reader to 
the histories of the times for an account of the causes and the pro- 
gress of that conflict, known as the Thirty Years War. We will 
simply say that the Protestant states were about sinking beneath the 
overwhelming force of Austrian arms when G-ustavus appeared as 
their ally, and rolled the tide of warfare back upon Vienna, and car- 
ried terror and dismay into the Imperial Court. 

" During this war at one time he marched upon Gartz in the hope 
of tempting Torquato Conti, the Italian general, by drawiag up his 
army in order of battle before his entrenchments, to issue forth and 
hazard a general engagement. The wary Italian, however, Avho was 
fully conscious of the imprudence of such a movement, was not to be 



122 GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS. 

diverted from, his proposed plans of operations, but remained within 
his lines employed in plans for removing the active enemy, whom he 
declined encountering in the open field, by the less honorable means 
of treachery. Quinti del Ponte, an officer in his own army, and 
Giovanni Baptista, a captain in the regiment serving under Count - 
Falkenberg, were the first agents employed in the hazardous under- 
taking. The former, pretending to have received some occasion of 
disgust in the Imperial service, passed over to the Swedish camp, 
■where, in conjunction with his confederate, he perfected a design 
against the life or liberty of G-ustavus, which nothing but accident 
prevented from being crowned with success. In a conversation with 
the king, he asserted, that it was in his power to point out a part of 
the Imperial fines, on which an attack might be made with the cer- 
tain prospect of advantage. Gustavus, highly gratified with the in- 
telligence, immediately called out a slight guard of twenty-five horse, 
and appointing a piquet of cavalry, amounting to about a hundred in 
number to wait at some distance, requested his informant to accom- 
pany him to reconnoitre the spot. The traitor willingly complied 
with the requisition ; but, as soon as the king appeared sufficiently 
near the position of the Imperialists, after insensibly withdrawing 
himself from the rest of the company, and putting spurs to his horse, 
he gallopped to the quarters of Torquato Conti, and informed him 
that, by stationing a detachment at a certain defile, he would infalli- 
bly intercept his antagonist on his return. Five hundred Neapolitan 
Cuirassiers were accordingly dismissed in haste, with Del Ponte at 
their head upon this errand, and reached the place appointed for the 
ambuscade without discovery, The king, after having completed his 
observations, was slowly returning to his quarters, when he was 
furiously assailed on all sides by an overwhelming multitude, against 
whom resistance appeared to be entirely hopeless. With the despe- 
rate resolution, however, of selling his life as dearly as possible, he 
instantly drew his sword, and encouraging- his guards by his voice 
and example, continued to maintain the combat so long, that the as- 
sailants, who had been strictly charged not to make use of fire-arms, 
were at length provoked to have recourse to their pistols and car- 
bines, as the surest means of effecting their object. This circumstance 
proved the ruin of the whole design. The Swedish piquet, attracted 
by the sound of the firing, arrived on the field of action the moment 



GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS. 123 

when the king, whose horse had been shot under him, and who, after 
having been made prisoner, had only been rescued by the most de- 
voted bravery of his attendants, was on the point of sinking beneath 
the crowd of enemies which had closed around him. A single charge 
delivered him from his perilous situation, and restored the battle on 
somewhat less unequal terms ; and after a few moments' hard fight- 
ing, the Neapolitans, who no doubt expected every moment to be 
attacked by an additional force, rode off the ground in confusion, and 
hastily retired to their lines. Baptiste, whose close connexion with 
Del Ponte pointed him out as an accomplice, was instantly seized ; 
and since full evidence of the conspiracy was found among his papers, 
he was condemned to death. A few days after this occurrence, a 
monk of Auberg, who had been observed for some time lurking about 
the king's person, was apprehended of suspicion of a design upon his 
life, which was fully confirmed both by papers found about him, and 
his own confession at the place of execution. 

"At the siege cf Ingoldstadt his life again was in imminent danger. 
While engaged in reconnoitering, a ball weighing fourteen pounds, 
fired from a culverine of extraordinary length, passed through the 
body of the horse on which he was mounted, which, immediately 
falling with its rider, was several times rolled over and over upon the 
earth by the violence of the shock. The king after being extricated 
from his dead steed, was found to have received no injury, except 
that the skin of his leg had been slightly raised by the shot. He dis- 
played no -emotion at the time, merely observing to his equery, that 
he had not suffered himself to be within the range of the artillery of 
the town ; and adding, ' I have had a fortunate escape, but appa- 
rently my hour is not yet come.' A few minutes after a cannon ball 
carried off the head of the young Margrave of Baden Durlach, who 
was a favorite no less of the king than of the whole Swedish army. 

" At the battle of Lutzen, in 1632, occurred that event which his 
friends had long feared would be the result of his temerity, and of 
his fearless exposure of his person to danger. He was charging the 
Finland Cuirassiers, and, meeting a ditch on the way, he easily leapt 
it, but his followers were retarded considerably by this obstacle, 
which the king not observing, he pushed forward only accompanied 
by a few of his suite, when he became a conspicuous object for the 
enemy's marksmen. An imperial captain, guessing from his bear- 
6 



124 GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS. 

ing that he was a person of consequence, commanded one of his 
musketeers to single out the mounted officer, who was thus fearlessly- 
exposing himself; and the soldier, in obedience to the order, fired 
with so true an aim that the left arm of Gustavus was shattered a 
little below the elbow by the shot. The king, almost fainting with 
the sudden pain, exclaimed to the Duke of Saxe Luxenburgh, 
' Cousin, I feel myself seriously wounded ; lead me, I entreat you, 
from the field,' and, turning his horses head, endeavored to regain 
the protection of his cavalry. But at this juncture a mist, which had 
dispersed a short time before the commencement of the action, was 
again overshadowing the conflict in comparative darkness, and the 
king, with the small party about him, mistaking the right direction, 
was wandering from the right to the left wing, when he was over- 
taken by a body of the enemy's cuirassiers. One among them recog- 
nizing his person, and uttering the words, 'Is it thou? Long have 
I sought thee!' immediately shot him through the body with a pis- 
tol, while the horse which he rode, stumbling at the same moment, 
threw him forward in the midst of a group of the dead and wounded, 
principally composed of his own household who had fallen around 
him. After he had lain for some time in this condition, unnoticed 
both by friends and by enemies, a party of irregular cavalry in the 
imperial service, arriving on the spot, and dismounting to despoil the 
slain, on finding him still exhibiting symptoms of life, inquired his 
name and quality. ' I am the King of Sweden,' replied the mon- 
arch, 'and seal with my blood the liberty and religion of the Ger- 
man nation !' A soldier among the plunderers, on receiving this an- 
swer, without a moment's hesitation discharged a pistol through his 
head, while a second transfixed him with his sword. Notwithstand- 
ing these terrible wounds the king had sufficient strength left to pro- 
nounce the exclamation. 'My God! my God!' to what he after- 
wards added, 'Alas! my poor queen!' These were his last words. 
In this manner, perished at the height of his fame, and in the full vigor 
of life — since he had not yet attained the age of thirty-eight years — 
the conqueror, whose dazling successes had so long excited the admi- 
ration of the world, and whose career of victory had hitherto been 
uninterrupted by a single defeat. The news of the death of Gustavus 
occasioned, throughout the Protestant kindgdoms of Europe, a feel- 
ing of dismay and despondency, which was violent in proportion as 



COUNTESS OF PORTLAND. 125 

it was suaden and unexpected. Men had been so long familiarized 
to almost daily accounts of wonders performed and dangers sur- 
mounted by his conduct, as almost to consider him charmed from or- 
dinary causualities." The effects of his victories were long felt, and 
eventually secured to Germany her liberty and independence. 



COUNTESS OF PORTLAND. 

" At the time when the great question between King Charles and 
his parliament agitated the whole country, the celebrated Carisbrooke 
Castle, on the Isle of Wight, belonging to the crown, was under the 
command of the Earl of Portland. This nobleman stood high in the 
estimation of the inhabitants ; for, in a petition numerously signed 
and presented to parliament in his behalf, they expressly mention 
him as ' their noble, much honored, and beloved captayne and gov- 
ernor.' He was, nevertheless, superceded, and Colonel Brett ap- 
pointed to the command. In the interim the Countess of Portland 
and her five children, accompanied by her husband's brother and sis- 
ter, took refuge in the castle. The desire of holding it for the king 
was by no means abandoned ; and by her presence in the fortress she 
hoped to exert some salutary influence over the minds of the popu- 
lace, whose attachment to her husband and his family had been so 
publicly manifested on a late occasion. The proverbial fickleness 
of popular favor, however, was soon to be verified ; for instigated by 
the Mayor of Newport, who represented that the island could not be 
safe so long as Colonel Brett and the Countess of Portland remained 
in Carisbrooke Castle, Parliament directed the captains of all ships 
stationed in the river to assist in any measures which the said mayor 
might deem necessary for securing the island. The Newport militia 
accordingly, with four hundred naval auxiliaries, was marched up to 
the walls of the castle, near Elizabeth's Tower, which at this time, 
says Worsley, ' had not three days' provision for its slender garrison. 
The moment was critical; the assailants had every advantage; while 
the prospect of famine or surrender was all that could be expected by 
the besieged. The countess, too, had a young family around her ; 



126 COUNTESS OF PORTLAND. 

and it may be imagined with what feelings she beheld the planting 
of hostile ordnance, and anticipated the probable effusion of kindred 
blood. There was little time for reflection or hesitation; with the 
magnanimity of a Roman matron, she made her appearance on the 
platform with a lighted match in her hand, and there, raising her 
voice, so as to be distinctly heard by the mayor and his armed fol- 
lowers, told them, with an undaunted air and unfaltering accents, 
that unless honorable terms were granted to herself and the garrison 
— whom they had so unaccountably summoned to surrender — she 
would instantly, with her own hand, discharge the first cannon, and 
defend the walls to the last extremity. Struck with her dignified 
demeanor, and the determination to which she had just given utter- 
ance, the mayor paused in his operations, and, having consulted with 
his townsmen, all that the countess demanded was agreed to; she 
was allowed to retain possession of her apartments in the castle ; 
Colonel Brett, his staff, and servants who composed the garrison, 
were allowed the freedom of the island, but were restricted from 
going to Portsmouth, then held for the king by Goring, and the cas- 
tle was surrendered to Parliament. The countess, however, being re- 
presented as still firmly attached to the king's interests, consequently 
a dangerous inmate in the castle ; an order was issued that within 
two days after notice was given, she should vacate both the castle 
and the island. She did so, and was indebted to the humanity of a 
few generous fishermen for the means of conveying herself and 
family to Southampton." 



CHARLES I. 

The unfortunate controversy between Charles 1st of England, and 
the Parliament, had resulted in the overthrow of the king, the ruin 
of his friends, and his own captivity. This result was followed by 
contentions, between Parliament and the army. Parliament wished 
to disband the army, but the army would not be disbanded. The 
officers knew very well that if their troops were dismissed, and they 
were to return to their homes as private citizens, all their importance 




ELIZABETH'S TOWER. Carisbrooke Castle. 



CHARLES I. 129 

would be gone. At last their contentions ended in an open rupture. 
At this time, Oliver Cromwell, afterwards so distinguished in the 
days of the commonwealth, was fast becoming the most influential 
leader of the army. To bring the Parliament to terms, he conceived 
the designs of seizing the king's person at Holmby House, where he 
was confined, so as to take him away from the control of the Parlia- 
ment, and transfer him to that of the army. This plan was effected, 
and the king removed to Hampton Court, where he was kept in an 
honorable imprisonment. But he chafed under his restraints, and he 
resolved to attempt his escape. One evening, his attendants came 
into his room, and found that he had gone. He had passed out at a 
private door, which admitted him into a park connected with the 
palace. He went through the park by a walk which led down to the 
Thames, on which river the palace was situated, where there was a 
boat ready for him. He crossed the river in the boat, and on the op- 
posite shore, he found several officers and some horses ready to 
receive him. He mounted immediately, and the party rode rapidly 
off. 

" They travelled all night, and arrived toward morning, at the resi- 
dence of a countess, on whose attachment to him, and fidelity, he 
placed great reliance. He was received by the countess, with every 
demonstration of attachment and royalty, and she immediately placed 
him in a place of concealment. But he could not long remain here, 
as her residence was unprovided with any means of defence, and so. 
they at once began to concert plans for a more secure retreat. 

" The house of the countess was in the Southern coast of England, 
near the Isle of Wight. On this island was situated the celebrated 
Carisbrooke Castle, belonging to the crown, and then under the 
charge of Colonel Hammond. Charles, in the hope that he would es- 
pouse his cause, resolved to throw himself into his hands. He did 
so, but found that while Hammond received him. with every respect, 
he was devoted to Parliament, and considered the king as his prison- 
er. In pursuance with the directions of Parliament, Charles was de- 
tained in the castle, and carefully guarded. 

"But he hid not despair of escape, and a plan was soon formed 
to rescue him from his confinement. By a correspondence, privily 
settled with some gentlemen of the island, it was agreed the king 
should let himself down from a window of the apartment; a swift 



130 CHARLES I. 

horse with a guide, was to wait for him at the bottom of the ram- 
parts, while a vessel in the offing was to be ready to convey him 
wherever he pleased. The chief difficulty was, how the king should 
get through the iron bars of his window : but Charles assured them 
that he had already made experiment of the passage, and had every 
reason to believe that it was sufficiently large to admit his person. 
All being ready — the night dark, the fortress quiet, and not a whis- 
per of suspicion of what was going on — everything promised a suc- 
cessful issue. The signal was then made. Charles appeared at the 
window, and seeing his friends in attendance, signified his readiness 
to make the attempt at once. But what was his disappointment and 
the mortification of his friends, who stood watching him with un- 
speakable anxiety — when he found that, in his eagerness to lay hold 
of any rational means of escape, he had miscalculated the width of 
the aperture ! Having protruded his head and shoulders, he could 
get no further ; and what was worse, he could not draw.himself back. 
His friends at the bottom of the wall heard him groan in distress ; 
but durst neither relieve him by word nor act, without alarming the 
sentinels, and thus sacrificing their own fives. It was a moment of 
agonizing suspense. At length, after repeated exertions, the king 
succeeded in extricating himself from his perilous situation, and 
waving his hand before the light as a signal, retired mournfully to his 
couch, there to brood over this fresh blow to Iris hopes, and the de- 
feated loyalty of his- friends. 

"Notwithstanding this failure, another attempt was soon made. 
There was a man named Osborne, whom Hammond employed as 
the personal attendant upon the king. The king succeeded in gain- 
ing this persons favor so much by his affability, and his general de- 
meanor, that one day he put a little paper in the king's gloves, which 
it was a part of his office to hold on certain occasions, and on this 
paper he had written that he was at the king's service. At first, 
Charles was afraid that this offer was only a treacherous one ; but at 
length, he confided in him. In the meantime, there was a certain 
man by the name of Rolf, in the garrison, who conceived the design 
of enticing the king away from the castle, on the promise of pro- 
moting his escape, and then murdering him. Rolf thought that the 
plan would please the Parliament, and that he himself, and those who 
should aid him in the enterprise, would be rewarded. He proposed 



CHARLES I. 131 

this scheme to Osborne, and asked him to join in the execution 
of it. 

" Osborne made the whole plan known to the king. The king, on 
reflection, said to Osborne, 'Very well; continue in communication 
with Eolf, and help him to mature his plan. Let him thus aid in 
getting me out of the castle, and we will make such arrangements as 
to prevent the assassination.' Osborne did so. He also gained over 
some other soldiers who were employed as sentinels near the place 
of escape. Osborne and Eolf presented the king with a saw, and by 
night work, and with great trouble he managed to saw the bars 
asunder, which had proved the obstacle to escape in the former effort. 
They were then, on a certain night, to be ready with a few attend- 
ants on the outside to receive the king as he descended, and convey 
him away. 

" In the meantime, Eolf and Osborne, had each obtained a number 
of confederates, those of the former supposing that the plan was to 
assassinate the king, while those of. the latter, understood that the 
plan was to assist him in escaping from captivity. Certain expres- 
sions which were dropped by one of the latter class, alarmed Eolf, 
and led- him to suspect some treachery. ' He accordingly took the 
precaution, to provide a number of armed men, and to have them ready 
at the window, so that he should be strong enough to secure the king 
immediately on his descent from the window. When the time came 
for the escape of the king, before getting out, looked below, and, see- 
ing so many armed men, knew at once that Eolf discovered their de- 
signs, and refused to descend. He quietly returned to his bed. The 
next day the bars were found filed in two and he was made a closer 
prisoner than ever. 

" Some months after this, some commissioners from Parliament went 
to see the king, and they found him in a most wretched condition. 
His beard was grown, his dress was neglected, his health was gone, 
his hair was grey, and, though only forty-eight years of age, he ap- 
peared as decrepid and infirm as a man of seventy. In fact, he was 
in a state of misery and despair. Even the enemies who came to 
visit him, though usually stern and hard-hearted enough to withstand 
any impressions, were extremely affected at the sight. 

"As soon as the army under Oliver Cromwell had obtained a com- 
plete ascendency, they took immediate measures for proceeding 



132 HENRIETTA. 

against the king. They removed him from Carisbrooke Castle to 
Hunt Castle, a gloomy fortress situated on the extreme part of a 
narrow strip of land, that extended for a long distance into the sea, 
on the Isle of Wight. This act of the army caused Parliament to 
pass a vote condemning the proceeding, but it was too late. The 
army concentrated forces about London, took possession of the ave- 
nues to the house of Parliament, and excluded all these members who 
were opposed to them." The remnant of the Parliament that was 
left, immediately took measures for bringing the king to trial. By 
the English constitution, he was only answerable to the Peers, but 
the Commons assumed an illegal power, appointed commissioners who 
were known to be against the king, and before the commissioners, a 
mock trial took place, that resulted in an act unparalleled in English 
history. An unlawful assembly of subjects, setting in trial on their 
own king, treated him with every indignity during the proceedings, 
and condemned him to death on the ground of treason. He was 
executed on the 30th of January 1648. 



HENRIETTA, 

QUEEN TO CHARLES 1ST OF ENGLAND. 

The remarkable adventures of this queen savor more of romance 
than reality. She was a French princess and a Roman Catholic, two 
reasons to make her particularly obnoxious to Protestant England. 
The attachment, however, that existed between her and her husband 
was very sincere and devoted, which, for the frequent marriages be- 
tween royal parties for policy, can rarely be attributed to tnem. She 
was an accomplished, beautiful and spirited woman. But from the 
extreme jealousy with which her motions were watched, and the 
growing animosity against the king, she kept herself in close retire- 
ment. The spirit of resentment and indignation which certain ac- 
tions of Charles had created in the minds of the people, at last made 
it unsafe for the royal family to reside in London any longer. It now 
became manifest that the king must either give up what he deemed 



HENRIETTA. 133 

the just rights and prerogatives of the crown, or prepare to maintain 
them by war. The queen urged him to choose the latter alternative. 
It was eventually agreed that he should take a stand against his ene- 
mies, while she should escape from the kingdom and endeavor to inter- 
est foreign power in his support. She reached Holland and was very 
successful in interesting all classes in her cause. She remained there 
a year, purchased aid and military stores, and set sail with them for 
England.* "The voyage was a very extraordinary one. A great gale 
of wind began to blow from the northeast soon after the ships left 
the port, which increased in violence for nine days, until at length 
the sea was lashed to such a state of fury that the company lost all 
hope of ever reaching the land. The queen had with her a large 
train of attendants, both ladies and gentlemen ; and there were also 
in her suit a number of Catholic priests, who always accompanied her 
as the chaplains and confessors of her household. These persons had 
all been extremely sick, and had been tied into their beds on account 
of the excessive rolling of the ship, and their own exhaustion and 
helplessness. The danger increased, until at last it became so ex- 
tremely imminent that all the self-possession of the passengers was 
entirely gone In such protracted storms, the surges of the sea strikes 
the ship with terrific force, and vast volumes of water fall heavily 
upon the decks, threatening instant destruction — the ship plunging 
awfully after the shock, as if sinking to rise no more. At such mo- 
ments, the noble ladies who accompanied the queen on this voyage 
would be overwhelmed with terror, and they filled the cabins with 
their shrieks of dismay. All this time the queen herself was quiet 
and composed. She told the ladies not to fear, for ' queens of Eng- 
land were never drowned.' 

" At one time, when the storm was at its height, the whole party 
were entirely overwhelmed with consternation and terror. Two of 
the ships were engulfed and lost. The queen's company thought 
that their own was sinking. They came crowding into the cabin 
where the priests were lying, sick and helpless, and began all to- 
gether to confess their sins to them, in the Catholic mode, eager in 
these their last moments, as they supposed, to relieve their conscien- 
ces in any way from their burdens of guilt which oppressed them. 

Abbott s History. 



134 HENRIETTA. 

The queen herself did not participate in these fears. She ridiculed 
the absurd confessions, and rebuked the senseless panic to which the 
terrified penitents were yielding; and whenever any mitigation of 
the violence of the gale made it possible to do anything to divert the 
minds of her company, she tried to make amusement out of the odd 
and strange dilemmas in which they were continually placed, and 
the ludicrous disasters and accidents which were always befalling her 
servants and officers of state, in their attempts to continue the eti- 
quette and ceremony proper in attendance upon a queen, and from 
which even the violence of such a storm, and the imminence of such 
danger, could not excuse them. After a fortnight of danger, terror, 
and distress, the ships that remained of the little squadron succeeded 
in getting back to the port from which they had sailed. 

" The queen, however, did not despair. After a few days of rest 
and refreshment she set sail again, though it was now in the dead of 
winter. The result of this second attempt was a prosperous voyage, 
and the little fleet arrived in due time at Burlington, on the English 
coast, where the queen landed her money and her stores. She had, 
however, after all, a very narrow escape, for she was very closely 
pursued on her voyage by an English squadron. They came into 
port the night after she had landed, and the next morning she was 
awakened by the crushing of cannon balls and the bursting of bomb- 
shells in the houses around her, and found, on hastily rising, that the 
village was under a bombardment from the ships of her enemies. 
She hurried on some sort of dress, and sallied forth with her attend- 
ants to escape into the fields. There is one circumstance, in this es- 
cape, which illustrates very strikingly that strange combination of 
mental greatness and energy worthy of a queen, with a simplicity of 
affections and tastes which we should scarceiy expect in a child, that 
marked Henrietta's character. She had a small dog. Its name was 
Mike. They say it was an ugly little animal, too, in all eyes but her 
own. This dog accompanied her on the voyage, and landed with her on 
the English shore. On this occasion, after getting a short distance from 
the house, she recollected that Mike was left behind. She immediately 
returned, ran up to her chamber again, seized Mike, who was sleeping 
unconsciously upon her bed, and bore the little pet away from the 
scene of ruin which the balls and bursting shells were making, all 
astonished, no doubt, at so hurried and violent an abduction. The 



HENRIETTA. 135 

party gained the open fields, but finding their exposure so great, the 
balls whistling by them, one of the servants had fallen, they stopped 
short at a trench, in which they remained for two hours, the balls 
passing over their heads harmless, but sometimes covering them with 
dirt. But by this time the tide was so far ebb that the commander 
found Ms vessels would be left aground, so he weighed his anchors and 
withdrew. 

" The king, at York, hearing of her situation dispatched an army to 
her relief. At the head of this army she marched triumphantly on to 
greet her husband. She stopped on her way to summon and take 
a town which was in the hands of her husband's enemies, thus add- 
ing the glory of a conquest to her other triumphs." 

HER FLIGHT. 

" The brightening of the prospects in King Charles's affairs which 
was produced, for a time, by the queen's vigorous and energetic ac- 
tion, proved to be only a temporary gleam after all. The clouds and 
darkness soon returned again, and brooded over his horizon more 
gloomily than ever. ' The Parliament raised and organized new and 
more powerful armies. The great Bepublican general, Oliver Crom- 
well, who afterward became so celebrated as the Protector in the 
time of the Commonwealth, came into the field, and was very suc- 
cessful in all his military plans. Other Eepublican generals appeared 
in all parts of the kingdom, and fought with great determination and 
great success, driving the armies of the king before them wherever 
they moved, and reducing town after town, and castle after castle, 
until it began to appear evident that the whole kingdom would soon 
fall into their hands. 

" The queen did everything in her power to sustain the rapidly 
sinking fortunes of the king, but without avail. At length being in 
necessity of securing seclusion and retirement, she had to seek for 
some place of retreat. Oxford was no longer a place of security. 
Parliament had ordered her impeachment for treason on account of 
her introducing munitions of war from foreign countries for the pur- 
pose of disturbing the public peace, and its armies were advancing to 
Oxford in order to secure her person. She accordingly left Oxford 
for Exeter, a strongly fortified place. The king accompanied her a 
few miles on her journey to Abingdon, where the unfortunate couple 



136 HENRIETTA. 

bade each other farewell. Their parting was accompanied by much 
grief and many tears. They never met again. She reached Exeter 
and shortly after her sixth child was born. While here, her health 
seriously impaired, weak and feeble, she learned, to her dismay, that 
one of the Parliamentary Generals, Essex, was advancing to attack 
the town where she had found refuge, for the purpose of securing hei 
person, and conveying her to London, to answer the charge of trea- 
son. 

" The queen perceived immediately that nothing but the most prompt 
and resolute action could enable her to escape the impending danger. 
She had but little bodily strength remaining, but that little was stim- 
ulated and renewed by the mental resolution and energy which, as 
is usual in temperaments like hers, burned all the brighter in propor- 
tion to the urgency of the danger which called it into action. She- 
rose from her sick bed, and began to concert measures for making 
her escape. She confided her plan to three trusty friends, one gen- 
tleman, one lady, and her confessor, who. as her spiritual teachei 
and guide, was her constant companion. She disguised herself and 
these, her attendants, and succeeded in getting through the gates of 
Exeter without attracting any observation. This was before Essex 
arrived. She found, however, before she went far, that the van ol 
the army was approaching, and she had to seek refuge in a hut till 
her enemies had passed. She concealed herself among some straw, 
her attendants seeking such other hiding-places as were at hand. It 
Avas two days before the bodies of soldiery had all passed so as to 
make it safe for the queen to come out of her retreat. The hut would 
seem to have been uninhabited, as the accounts state that she re- 
mained all this time without food, though this seems to be an almost 
incredible degree of privation and exposure for an English queen. 
At any rate, she remained during all this time in a state of great 
mental anxiety and alarm, for there were parties of soldiers con- 
stantly going by, with a tumult and noise which kept her in contin- 
ual terror. Their harsh and dissonant voices, heard sometimes in 
angry quarrels and sometimes in mirth, were always frightful. In 
fact, for a helpless woman in a situation like that of the queen, the 
mood of reckless and brutal mirth in such savages was perhaps more 
to be dreaded than that of their anger. 

"At one time the queen overheard a party of these soldiers talk 



HENRIETTA. 137 

ing about her. They knew that to get possession of the papist queen 
was the object of the expedition. They spoke of getting her head 
and carrying it to London, saying that Parliament had offered a re- 
ward of fifty thousand crowns for it, and expressed the savage pleas- 
ure which it would give them to secure this prize, by imprecations 
and oaths. 

" They did not, however, discover their intended victim. After the 
whole army had passed, the queen ventured cautiously forth from 
her retreat ; the little party got together again, and still retaining 
their disguises, moved on over the road by which the soldiers had 
come, and which was in the shocking condition that a road and a 
country always exhibit where an army has been marching. Faint 
and exhausted with sickness, abstinence, and the effects of long-con- 
tinued anxiety and fear, the queen had scarcely strength to go on. 
She persevered, however, and at length found a second refuge in a 
cabin in a wood. She was going to Plymouth, which is forty or fifty 
miles from Exeter, to the southwest, and is the great port and naval 
station of the English, in that quarter of the island. 

" She stopped at this cabin for a little time to rest, and to wait for 
some other friends and members of her household from the palace in 
in Exeter to join her. These friends were to wait until they found 
that the queen succeeded in making her escape, and then they were 
to follow, each in a different way and all disguised. The queen and 
her party had to traverse a wild and desolate forest, many miles in 
extent, on the way to Plymouth. On nearing Plymouth it was 
found that it would be dangerous to enter that town, so they kept 
farther to the west until they reached Pendenis Castle, near Pal- 
mouth, situated on a high promontory jutting into the sea, and then, 
in the hands of the royalists. The queen had determined to make 
her escape as soon as possible to Prance. There was a Dutch ship 
in the harbor, and in this she embarked the morning after her arrival. 
They made all sail for Dieppe, on the coast of Prance, but while yet at 
sea they perceived some ships that seemed to be pursuing them. 
They gained rapidly, and presently a gun was fired as a sign for the 
queen's ship to stop. A general panic and great consternation now 
ensued. Some were for fighting, some for surrender, while others 
were overwhelmed with terror. 

" In the midst of this dreadful scene of confusion, the queen, as 



138 HENRIETTA. 

was usual with her in such emergencies, retained all her self-posses- 
sion, and though weak and helpless before, felt a fresh strength and 
energy now, which the imminence itself of the danger seemed to in- 
spire. She was excited, it is true, as well as the rest, but it was, in 
her case, the excitement of courage and resolution, and not of sense- 
less terror and despair. She ascended to the deck ; she took the di- 
rect command of the ship ; she gave instructions to the pilot how to 
steer; and, though there was a storm coming on, she ordered every 
sail to be set, that the ship might be driven as rapidly as possible 
through the water. She forbade the captain to fire back upon their 
pursuers, fearing that such firing would occasion delay ; and she gave 
distinct and positive orders to the captain, that so soon as it should 
appear that all hope of escape was gone, and that they must inevita- 
bly fall into the hands of their enemies, he was to set fire to the 
magazine of gunpowder, in order that they might all be destroyed by 
the explosion. 

"In the meantime all the ships, pursuers and pursued, were rap- 
idly n earing the French coast. The fugitives were hoping to reach 
their port. They were also hoping every moment to see some friend- 
ly French ships appear in sight to rescue them. To balance this 
double hope, there was a double fear. There were their pursuers 
behind them, whose shots were continually booming over the water, 
threatening them with destruction, and there was a storm arising 
which, with the great press of sail that they were carrying brought 
with it a danger, perhaps, more imminent still. 

"It happened that these hopes and fears were all realized, and 
nearly at the same time. A shot struck the ship, producing a great 
shock, and throwing all on board into terrible consternation. It 
damaged the rigging, bringing down the rent sails and broken cordage 
to the deck, and thus stopped the vessel's way. At the same mo- 
ment some French vessels came in sight, and, as soon as they under- 
stood the case, bore down full sail to rescue the disabled vessel 
The pursuers, changing suddenly their pursuit to flight, altered their 
course and moved slowly away. The storm, however, increased, and 
preventing them from making the harbor of Dieppe, drove them 
along the shore, threatening every moment to dash them upon the 
rocks and breakers. At length the queen's vessel succeeded in get- 
ting into a rocky cove, where they were sheltered from the winds 



LADY MORTON. 139 

and waves, and found a chance to land. The queen ordered out the 
boat, and was set ashore with her attendants on the rocks. She 
climbed over them, wet as they were with the dashing spray, and 
slippery with sea- weed. The little party, drenched with the rain, 
and exhausted and forlorn, wandered along the shore till they came 
to a little village of fishermen's huts. The queen went into the first 
wretched cabin which offered itself, and lay down upon the straw in 
the corner for rest and sleep." 

The tidings soon spread that the Queen of England had landed on 
the coast. In due time she was escorted in state to Paris, and estab- 
lished in great magnificence and splendor in the Louvre. But while 
thus outwardly changed for the better, her spirits sunk, her beauty 
faded, and her countenance assumed a sad expression of despair. She 
mourned over the ruin of her husband's hopes, and her separation 
from him and from her children with perpetual tears. Her husband 
at last fell beneath the executioners hand, and this last blow com- 
pletely prostrated her heroic nature. 



LADY MORTON. 

When the queen of Charles II. escaped from Exeter, as related m 
this volume, she left her infant, but a few weeks old, in the charge 
of Lady Morton. It was a daughter, and was christened Henrietta 
Anne. When the princess was about two years old, Lady Morton 
learned that Parliament was forming a plan to take the child out of 
her hands and have her educated in the Protestant faith. Lady Mor- 
ton was most anxious to get the child back to its mother in France, 
and conceived the idea of making her escape across the country in 
the disguise of a beggar woman, changing at the same time the little 
princess into a boy. The child had been taught to call herself a 
princess, but fortunately for the success of her guardian's plans, could 
only pronounce the first syllable, and that in a manner to resemble 
Prah. Lady Morton resolved to call her in her disguise, Pierre, as 
coming near to the pronunciation of the child, and by that means 



140 THE COUNTESS OF DERBY. 

avoid detection, should any questions be asked them on the road. 
The lady herself was very tall and handsome, but by means of an 
artificial hump on the shoulder, ragged clothes, and her features dis- 
figured with paint, she was in hopes to avoid discovery. With the 
princess in a bundle on her back, and a staff in her hand, after escap- 
ing stealthily from the palace, she started on her journey towards 
Dover, a distance of fifty miles, to be accomplished on foot through a 
country filled with enemies, who were ever on the alert to detect the 
stratagems and schemes of their opponents. The little girl was very 
indignant at the transformation that had been accomplished in her 
person, and persisted in telling every one they met that she was not 
a boy, nor a beggar, but a girl and a princess. Fortunately, her im- 
perfect pronunciation preserved them from detection. After under- 
going great fatigue and exertion, Lady Morton accomplished her wild 
and romantic attempt in safety, reached Dover, obtained a passage 
across the channel, and at last arrived at Paris to the unbounded joy 
of Henrietta. 



THE COUNTESS OF DERBY. 

During the Parliamentary wars in England an army under the 
command of Fairfax, laid seige to the mansion of the Earl of Derby, 
known as the Lathom House, winch was defended in so heroic a 
manner by the countess, his wife, as to win the admiration and re- 
spect of all Europe. 

" The earl had gone over to protect his hereditary dominions in 
the Isle of Man, from the threatened invasion of the parliamentarians. 
Scarcely had he reached the isle, when the countess, whom he had 
left in charge of Lathom, received secret intelligence that her house 
would shortly be attacked. She instantly called in the aid of the 
gentlemen of the county, and made all provisions requisite for a de- 
fence, with so much secrecy and despatch, that when, shortly after- 
wards, Fairfax appeared before the place, he was surprised to find 
that resistance was contemplated. He sent a trumpet to require a 
conference with the countess ; to this she agreed, but detained the 



THE COUNTESS OP DERBY. 141 

messenger, while, ' to make the best show she could, she placed hei 
inefficient and unarmed men on the walls, and tops of the towers, and 
marshalled all her soldiers in good order, with their respective officers, 
from the main guard in the first court to the great hall,' where she 
calmly awaited the visit of her enemy. The meeting was conducted, 
on both sides, with much courtesy and apparent respect. Fairfax 
proposed to her an honorable and secure removal, with her family 
and retinue, to Knowsley Hall ; an engagement that she should re- 
main there free from molestation ; and half the earl's revenues for her 
support. She replied, ' I am here under a double trust — of faith to 
my lord, and of allegiance to my king : give me a month to consider 
my answer.' Fairfax refused. ' Then I hope, sir, that you will ex- 
cuse me,' rejoined the countess, ' if I preserve my honor and obe- 
dience, though it be to my ruin.' A fortnight passed, before the 
general had decided on his method of attack. He then sent in mili- 
tary form to demand an immediate surrender. The countess answer- 
ed, that " she had not yet forgotten what she owed to the church of 
England, to her prince and to her lord ; and that till she had lost her 
honor, or her life, she would defend that." 

"He now appointed Colonel Rigby to conduct the siege, whom his' 
private enmity to the Earl of Derby recommended to that office. 
The colonel made known his arrival by a fresh summons to Lathom 
House to surrender. It was conveyed in insulting terms : ' Trum- 
peter,' answered the countess to the messenger, ' tell that insolent 
rebel Rigby, that if he presume to send another summons within 
these walls, I will have "his messenger hanged up at the gates.' The 
garrison, however, was by this time reduced to extremity ; when 
they had the happiness to descry from their towers the banners of 
Prince Rupert, who, on the earnest representations of the Earl of 
Derby, had turned aside for their relief in his march towards York. 
Rigby instantly raised the siege, and retreated, with his forces, tc 
Stockport." 



142 CHARLES THE SECOND. 



CHARLES THE SECOND. 

Perhaps in the history of no prince are there so many romantic 
incidents as in that of Charles Stuart of England. His very infancy 
passed in the camp, and more familiar with the clash of arms, a couch 
of war, and scenes of death, than with the usual pursuits of youth, he 
early attained a manly daring, and a zest for adventure. When only 
fourteen he was nominally at the head of an army, and witnessed 
many of those disasters that hastened the downfall of his house. 
These succeeding misfortunes, at last, induced the king to endeavor 
to accomplish the escape of his son, who after some adventure al 
last reached the shore of France. 

Here he remained until after the death of his father, when he was 
induced to hasten to Scotland where he was led to expect an army 
awaiting him. After some delay, arrangements were completed and 
he marched towards the borders, but Cromwell crossed the line for 
the purpose of giving him battle. Young Charles, however, out-ma- 
nceuvred him, marched into England, and took up a station at Wor- 
cester. Here ensued a bloody battle, in which the royalists were 
vanquished, and Charles narrowly escaped being taken prisoner. 
With a few followers, he escaped by means of by-lanes and unfre- 
quented roads, until he reached a sequestered region in which there 
were some secluded dwellings. One of these residences was called 
Boscobel. It was situated near a wood, away from any high road, 
and had been built as a place of retreat, with all sorts of concealed 
and secure hiding-places in the walls. A person named Penderel 
was a tenant of one of the houses. Into his charge the king was 
consigned. He was taken into an inner room, his hair cut off after 
the manner of the Eoundheads, soot rubbed over his face to change 
the expression of his features, and they gave him the guise of a 
squalid peasant. The king wished to be relieved of his followers, 
which was intimated to them, and as there were rumors of an ap- 
proaching detachment of Cromwell's forces, they rode rapidly off, but 
unhappily were overtaken by the Roundheads, captured, and treated 
as traitors. 

Meanwhile Richard Penderel led the king out of a postern door 
and struck at once into a deep wood, when, after proceeding for half 



CHARLES THE SECOND. 143 

a mile, he left him alone for the purpose of obtaining what knowledge 
he could, promising to return again. This was about sunrise, and it 
rained heavily.* The king tried in vain to find a shelter under the 
trees of the forest. The trees themselves were soon thoroughly satu- 
rated, and they received the driving rain from the skies only to let 
the water fall in heavier drops upon the poor fugitive's defenseless 
head. Eichard borrowed a blanket at a cottage near, thinking that 
it would afford some protection, and brought it to his charge. The 
king folded it up to make a cushion to sit upon ; for, worn out as 
he was with hard fighting all the day before, and hard riding all the 
night, he could not stand ; so he chose to use his blanket as a protec- 
tion from the wet ground beneath him, and to take the rain upon his 
head as it fell. 

Eichard sent a peasant's wife to him presently with some food. 
Charles, who never had any great respect for the female sex, was 
alarmed to find that a woman had been intrusted with such a secret. 
" My good woman," said he, " can you be faithful to a distressed 
Cavalier ?" " Yes, sir," said she ; " I will die rather than betray you." 
Charles had, in fact, no occasion to fear. Woman is, indeed, commu- 
nicative and confiding, and often, in unguarded hours, reveals indis- 
creetly what it would have been better to have withheld ; but in all 
cases where real and important trusts are committed to her keeping, 
there is no human fidelity which can be more safely relied upon than 
hers. 

Charles remained in the wood all the day, exposed to the pelting 
storm. There was a road in sight, a sort of by-way leading across 
the country, and the monarch beguiled the weary hours as well as he 
oould by watching this road from the trees, to see if any soldiers 
came along. There was one troop that appeared, but it passed di- 
rectly by, marching heavily through the mud and rain, the men in- 
tent, apparently, only on reaching their journey's end. When night 
came on, Eichard Penderel returned, approaching cautiously, and, 
finding all safe, took the king into the house with him. They brought 
him to the fire, changed and dried his clothes and gave him supper. 
The homeless monarch once more enjoyed the luxuries of warmth 
and shelter. It was now resolved that he should attempt to escape 



1 What follows is principally compiled from Abbot's Historv. 



144 CHARLES THE SECOND. 

into Wales. Penderel knew a Mr. Wolf at a town called Madely 
whom he thought, would give succor to the fugitive king. They set 
off about nine o'clock the same night, in the darkness and the rain, 
with the hope of reaching their destination by the next morning. It 
was agreed the king should be designated as Will Jones. They got 
along very well for a time until they came to a small stream where 
there was a bridge, and on the other side a mill. The miller unfor-J 
tunately happened to be on the alert, and hearing their footsteps call- 
ed out. " Who goes there ?" " Neighbors " replied Penderel. "Stop 
then" said the miller, "if you be neighbors." The travellers only 
pressed on faster, and the miller ran out in pursuit. Penderel fled, 
the king following him. They turned into a lane, and ran a long 
distance, the way being in many places so dark that the king, in fol- 
lowing Richard, was guided only by the sound of his footsteps, and 
the creaking of the leather dress which such peasants were accus- 
tomed in those days to wear. They crept along, however, as silent- 
ly, and yet as rapidly as possible, until at length Richard turned sud- 
denly aside, leaped over a sort of gap in the hedge, and crouched 
down in the trench on the other side. Here they remained for some 
time, listening to ascertain whether they were pursued. When they 
found that all was still, they crept forth from their hiding-places, re- 
gained the road, and went on their way. 

At length they came to the town. Penderel went on a-head to 
Wolf's residence, and asked for aid. " I would not," replied he, 
" unless it were the king himself." " It is the king," rejoined Pen- 
derel. Wolf immediately offered his aid, the king was admitted, and 
for the night reposed in quiet and security. At the approach of morn 
it was decided, in order to be secure, that the king should conceal 
himself in the barn among the hay. 

Upon inquiry it was found to be impracticable for the king to pur- 
sue his journey towards Wales. The country was greatly excited 
•with the news of the king's escape, large rewards offered for his ap- 
prehension, and those who should harbor him denounced with the 
heaviest penalties. The country was scoured with those in search of 
him. Under these circumstances it was concluded tbat Boscobel of- 
fered the securest retreat, and that they should return there with 
speed. They waited till midnight, then set out. On approaching 
the bridge where they had encountered the miller, the king wished 



CHARLES THE SECOND. 145 

to go a distance below and attempt to ford the stream. His guide 
demurred as he could not swim. Charles said that he would go first 
and try the water. They found a ford, but the stream was dark and 
rapid, and the king leading his companion by the hand, crossed the 
dangerous passage. 

They reached Boscobel before daylight. Penderel reconnoitred 
the house, while the king remained in the woods. The guide found 
Col. Carlis, a royalist, concealed in the house, who upon hearing of 
the king's proximity to the place, hastened to accompany Penderel 
to where he was. 

They found him sitting upon the ground at the foot of a tree, en- 
tirely exhausted. He was worn out with hardship and fatigue. 
They took him to the house. They brought him to the fire, and gave 
him some food. The colonel drew off his majesty's heavy peasant 
shoes and coarse stockings. They were soaked with water and fall 
of gravel. The colonel bathed his feet, which were sadly swollen 
and blistered, and, as there were no other shoes in the house which 
would answer for him to wear, Dame Penderel warmed and dried 
those which had been taken off, by filling them with hot ashes. 

It was now necessary to obtain some place of concealment. The 
woods would be explored by wandering bands of soldiery, and scarce- 
ly afforded sufficient security. They feared for his safety in the house, 
for the soldiers were generally skilled in detecting secret retreats in 
walls and passages. In this perplexity it occurred to them that a 
large oak which stood in an isolated position near the house, the top 
of which from having been often pruned, was remarkably luxurious 
and dense, would afford the king the securest place of refuge. It 
was argued that while his enemies would very naturally explore a 
thicket or grove, they would not probably think of examining a de- 
tached and solitary tree ; it was proposed, accordingly, that the king 
and Carlis should climb up into this spreading oak, and conceal them- 
selves for the day among its branches. 

The king consented to this plan. They took some provisions, 
therefore, as soon as the day began to dawn, and something to an- 
swer the purpose of a cushion, and proceeded to the tree. By the 
help of William and Richard the king and the colonel climbed up, and 
established themselves in the top. The colonel placed the cushion 
for the king on the best support among the limbs that he could find 



146 CHARLES THE SECOND. 

The bread and cheese, and a small bottle of beer, which Richard and 
William had brought for their day's supplies, they suspended to a 
branch within their reach. The colonel then seated himself a little 
above the king, in such a manner that the monarch's head could rest 
conveniently in his lap, and in as easy a position as it was possible, 
under such circumstances, to attain. Richard and William, then, 
after surveying the place of retreat all around from below, in order to 
be sure that the concealment afforded by the foliage was everywhere 
complete, went away, promising to keep faithful watch during the 
day, and to return in the evening. All things being thus arranged in 
the oak, the colonel bade his majesty to close his eyes and go to sleep, 
saying that he would take good care that he did not fall. The king 
followed Ms directions, and slept safely for many hours. 

In the course of the day the king and Carlis saw, by means of the 
openings between the leaves, through which, as through loop-holes 
in a tower, they continually reconnoitered the surrounding fields, men 
passing to and fro, some of whom they imagined to be soldiers search- 
ing the wood. They were not, however, themselves molested. 
They passed the day undisturbed, except by the incessant anxiety 
and alarm which they necessarily suffered, and the fatigue and pain, 
which must have become almost intolerable before night, from their 
constrained and comfortless position. Night, however, came at last, 
and relieved them from their duress. They descended from the tree 
and stole back cautiously to the house, the king resolving that he could 
not bear such hardship another day, and that they must, accordingly, 
find some other hiding-place for him on the morrow. We can 
scarcely be surprised at this decision. A wild beast could hardly 
have endured a second day in such a lair. 

Other plans of concealment were now adopted. He at last con- 
cluded to confine himself in a hole in the walls where the Earl of 
Derby was once concealed. They thought it would be tolerably safe. 
While here, the king was in want of some mutton. To obtain it open- 
ly would excite suspicion. Col. Carlis therefore started out at mid- 
night, stole upon a neighboring sheep-cote, secured an animal and 
butchered it with his dagger. It was brought home, and the king 
cut off some cullops from the joint, fried it with his own hands, and 
he and Carlis ate it together. 

Messengers were now secretly despatched to certain neighboring 



CHARLES THE SECOND. 147 

royalists, informing them of their monarch's perilous situation. They 
met secretly to devise plans for his escape. A Mrs. Lane was let 
into the gecret, and it was concluded that if he could once get to 
Bristol he could manage to reach the coast and escape to Trance, 
therefore this lady was to depart on a journey to tins place, on some 
pretence, taking with her the king as a man-servant. He was dis- 
guised in a manner consistent with his new character, and mounted 
on a horse, with Mrs. Lane seated on a pillion behind him. The 
friends of the lady, who were gathered to bid her adieu, did not dream 
her demure and respectful looking servant was anything more than 
that he assumed to be. 

They travelled on from day to day, meeting with various adven- 
tures. At one time a shoe was off from the horse's foot, and they 
stopped at a blacksmith's to have it replaced. While the smith was 
busy, the king asked him what news. " No news" said the smith, 
" that I know of, save the grand news of beating the rogues, the 
Scots, at Worcester." The king asked if any of the Ene- i;c -h officers 
who were with the Scots had been taken since the battle. " Some 
had been captured," the smith replied, "but he could not learn that 
the rogue Charles Stuart had been taken." The king then toldhim 
that if that rogue were taken, he deserved to be hanged more than 
all the rest, for bringing the Scots in. " You speak like an honest 
man," said the smith. Soon after, the work was done, and Charles 
led the horse away. 

At another time, when the party had stopped for the night, the 
king, in accordance with his assumed character, went to the kitchen. 
They were roasting some meat with a jack, a machine used much in 
those days to keep meat, while roasting, in slow rotation before the 
fire. The jack had run down. They asked the pretended William 
Jackson to wind it up. In trying to do it, he attempted to wind it 
the wrong way. The cook, in ridiculing his awkwardness, asked him 
what country he came from, that he did not know how to wind up a 
jack. The king meekly replied that he was the son of a poor tenant 
of Colonel Lane's, and that they seldom had meat to roast at home, 
and that, when they had it, they did not roast it with a jack. 

The party at length arrived safely at their place of destination, 
which was at the house of a Mrs. Norton, near Bristol. While here 
he was at one time in the kitchen while the servants were talking 
7 



148 CHARLES THE SECOND. 

about the battle of Worcester. One of them described it so accurate- 
ly, that the king questioned him, and learned that he had served the 
royal cause, and that he knew the king's person. This so alarmed 
Charles, that the man grew suspicious, observed him, and presently 
made known that he had detected his disguise, but promised the most 
faithful secrecy and fidelity. 

The king now wished to reach the residence of Colonel Wyndham, 
a fast friend, who resided at Trent, near the southern coast. This 
place he reached safely. Col. Wyndham, by the means of friends, at- 
tempted to gain a passage for the royal fugitive across the channel 
The passage was actually engaged, and the captain, a true friend, ad- 
mitted into the secret. Everything was arranged, but when the fu- 
gitive arrived at the place of rendezvous no vessel appeared, and after 
waiting many hours, he was obliged to forego his intentions. 
It appeared that the captain's wife became suspicious of his purposes, 
and being something of a termagent, actually locked him up, and 
when he insisted on being released, she declared that if he did at- 
tempt to go, she would give warning to the authorities and have him 
arrested. So the discomfitted captain was obliged to give up his plans 
and break his appointment. 

After numerous other minor incidents and adventures, a vessel 
bound to the Isle of Wight, was induced to take him on board, with 
the promise of landing him on the shore of France. In the agree- 
ment with the master of the vessel he was designated simply as 
a royal gentleman, escaping from Worcester. After an uninter- 
rupted voyage the king once more stood- upon the soil of France. 

That the king of England, born to the sway of thousands, who had 
been taught to believe himself the sovereign of all who surrounded 
him, and the master of the soil he trod, should be a helpless fugitive, 
concealed in woods, disguised as a peasant, consorting with the low- 
liest of his subjects, is a wonderful evidence of the vicissitudes of life. 
Ten years more of struggling and misfortune ensued, and then, he 
once more stood in the halls of his ancestors, and resumed the pra- 
rogatives of his birth. 



149 



LOUIS, PRINCE OF CONDE, 

SURNAMED THE GREAT. 
THE PRINCESS OP CONDE, DUCHESS OP LONGUEVILLE. 

Louis, prince of Conde, who became one of the greatest warriors 
of his day, and who contributed largely to the dazzling brilliancy and 
greatness of Louis the XIVs reign, was born in 1621. He early 
evinced a great passion for the art of war, and assiduously applied him- 
self, to its study. He served in the Spanish campaign with much 
honor, and when only twenty-two, he was appointed commander-in- 
chief of the army, which was to defend Champagne and Picordy. 
This appointment was viewed with distrust, for he had not yet evinced 
the genius requisite for so responsible a command. But he soon had 
an opportunity to prove his calibre. He achieved a great victory at 
Eocroy, that at one step, gave him an imperishable fame, and estab- 
lished the greatest confidence in his powers. This was but the com- 
mencement of a series of brilliant victories, and his campaigns in 
Germany and Flanders of 1645, 1646, 1647, and 1648, convinced the 
most sceptical of his brilliant genius, and won for him the surname of 
Great. 

He was the most courageous and intrepid man of his clay. At the 
battle of Nordlingen, he performed prodigies of valor, nearly all of his 
aides-de-camp fell at his feet, either dead or wounded, he himself had 
three horses killed under him, and received a severe contusion in the 
thigh, a pistol shot in the elbow, and more than twenty cuts and 
blows on his armor and equipments. On one occasion, when sud- 
denly attacked, he rushed into the fight in his doublet, with no 
armor, and his only weapon a sword. " No never," exclaims Bussy, 
who met him in the midst of the firing, " never could the imagina- 
tion of a painter succ eed in representing Mars in the heat of a conflict 
with so much strength and energy !" The prince was covered with 
sweat, dust, and smoke. His eyes flashed fire, and the arm in which 
he held his sword, was steeped to the elbow in blood. " You are 
wounded, Monseigneur ?" asked Bussy. "No, no," replied he, "it 
is the blood of those rascals !" He meant to speak of the enemy. 



150 i.ouis. 

But while these victories were achieving for the houor of France, 
dissentions were springing up in Paris, and civil war was threatened. 
Louis XIII was dead, leaving an infant heir to the throne, with the 
queen as regent, supported by Cardinal Mazarin, the successor of 
Richelieu. Mazarin was unpopular and ambitious. The encroach- 
ments of his power, however, were ably resisted by the Parliament. 
The country, therefore, was divided into two parties, the Court party 
and the Parliament party. The latter had an example in the English 
parliament, which at that very time, was bringing Charles the 1st to 
trial, but more moderate than their neighbors, though no less firm 
they viewed with horror any attempt to overthrow the royal au- 
thority, while they determinedly resisted a despotism controlled by 
an ambitious minister. Anne of Austria, the queen regent, however, 
was devotedly attached to Mazarin, and resolved in her purpose of 
maintaining the despotic authority of the throne. Conde first ap 
peared as the pacificator between these two parties, but becoming 
enraged at what he conceived the immoderate demands of Parliament, 
he threw his influence with the Court party, although avowedly op- 
posed to Cardinal Mazarin. Matters thus fomenting soon produced 
a civil war. The court left Paris secretly, at night, for St. Germain, 
and issued a decree, stating as a reason for this step, that the Par- 
liament had gone so far as to conspire for seizing the youthful king's 
person. Upon this, the justly indignant Parliament, issued a decree, 
declaring Cardinal Mazarin as the cause of all the trouble of the state, 
and the enemy of the public peace, and enjoining him to leave the 
kingdom within eight days, and from that time to be considered as 
an outlaw. Civil war was thus declared. The Parliament took 
measures for their defence, while the Court party prepared for the 
blockade of Paris. Several encounters took place, but negotiations 
were opened, and a peace patched up between them. 

The Prince, never on good terms with Mazarin. became more and 
more irritated at his course, and at last conspired for his overthrow. 
Great as a warrior, he soon proved himself incompetent as the leader 
of a faction. The subtle and dissimmulating cardinal conciliated him 
so far by certain concessions, that he restored his friendship to him, 
and Mazarin having thus disarmed the confederacy against him, pro- 
ceeded at once to crush his enemies. His power had become almost 
absolute, and he ruled the queen with a despotic will, who yielded 



LOUIS. 151 

everything to him. He skilfully united the two parties in their re- 
sentment against the prince, and supported by this powerful combi- 
nation, he ordered the arrest of the prince, his brother Prince of 
Conti, and his brother-in-law, the Duke de Longueville. They were 
conveyed secretly, at night, to the chateau of Vincennes. On the 
road, the carriage was overturned and broken. The prisoners were 
obliged to get out, and a ray of hope revived in Oonde's heart. He • 
looked to the right and to the left, but the conductor approached him 
saying, that he was pledged to convey his prisoners in safety to Vin- 
cennes, and if the prince should make the least attempt to escape, 
he would stab him to the heart. After a delay of two hours, the car- 
riage was repaired, and they proceeded. They were lodged in the 
Donjon of Vincennes, where they found neither beds nor supper. 
The habits of the young warrior, made him indifferent to such want 
of comfort, and he threw himself on a bundle of straw, on which he 
slept undisturbed for twelve hours. He manifested a similar calm- 
ness and intrepidity during the whole course of his confinement. 

This act caused great astonishment through France. The people 
of Paris remembering his conduct, during the war around Paris, re- 
joiced at the step, while a majority of Parliament, forgetting the 
great violation of a principle in such a course, openly manifested their 
satisfaction in the overthrow of their enemy. His few friends who 
endeavored to make a stand for him, were overthrown, while the 
greater number of his Chateaux fell into the hands of the ministry. 
T 1 "" Chateaux of Montrond, still remained faithful to the cause of the 
princes, while M. de Turenne in the town of Stenay, placed himself 
at the head of his factions, and assumed the title of " Lieutenant 
General of the king's army for the deliverance of the princes." 

The Duchess de Longueville, sister to Conde, hastened to Nor- 
mandy, which had long been governed by the Houses of Concle, with 
the hope of raising a revolt in favor of the princes. She hastened to 
Rouen, but Mazarin having hastily assembled some troops, he made 
the queen and the young king set off for Normandy, thinking truly, 
that the presence of the sovereign would crush the revolt in its bud. 
The news of their approach did, in fact, cause the populace to revolt 
against the Duchess, and she was obliged to take flight. In whatever 
place she sought refuge, the governors, or the people, declared for the 



152 louis. 

king, until at last, followed only by a very small retinue, she threw 
herself into the Castle of Dieppe. 

" The Cardinal, who knew the importance of gaining time in a civil 
war, hastened to send a body of troops in pursuit of her. At their 
approach the governor of the castle declared that he should continue 
faithful to the king ; and it was in vain that the Duchess harangued 
the populace of the town, and tried to excite them to take her de- 
fence. What resource was then left to her ? Her courage chafed at 
the idea of submitting to her enemies, — and to embark at a moment 
when the tempest howled, and the wind was contrary, threatened 
her life. 

"The sister of Conde did not hesitate. She first made a general 
confession to a priest, with all the marks of a sincere repentance 
Then she left the castle by a secret door which was not guarded, fol- 
lowed by several gentlemen, and by some of her women who had the 
courage not to forsake her. It was night, and fearful weather : she 
walked, however, two leagues to reach a little port, where she had 
kept a ship ready in the roads. She found in the port only two little 
fishermen's boats ; neither of them would venture out, so raging and 
violent was the tempest. At last, however, they yielded to her en- 
treaties. But the sailor who took her in his arms to carry her 
through the breakers was unable to resist the united strength of wind 
and sea, and let fall his burthen in the water. She was on the very 
point of perishing, but several men dashed into the waves to save her, 
and at length succeeded in rescuing her and dragging her senseless 
upon the beach. She had scarcely recovered her consciousness, when 
with a most heroic courage she wished to attempt another embarka- 
tion ; but this time the seamen were thoroughly alarmed, and re- 
mained deaf to her entreaties and to her promises of a large re- 
ward. 

" Then it became necessary to change the whole plan. Fortunate- 
ly there were horses at hand. The duchess placed herself on a pil- 
lion behind a horseman : the ladies of her suite did the same, and 
they succeeded in reaching in this manner the house of a gentleman 
of the country of Caux, who gave them an asylum. She took, how- 
ever, only a few hours of repose : by night she approached the coast 
with the intention of again putting to sea ; the wind was lulled, an ! 
fortune seemed to smile upon her design, when at the very moment 



louis. 153 

of her embarkation she saw one of her equerries making towards her 
at full speed, bearing the news that she had been betrayed, and that 
the captain of the ship had promised Mazarin to secure her as a pri- 
soner the moment she should go on board. Warned in time, the 
duchess again took refuge inland, and wandered during fifteen days 
from one retreat to another, according to the intelligence she re- 
ceived. At the end of this time, she found means of gaining over 
the captain of an English ship at Havre, to whom a story was told 
of a gentleman who had fought a duel, and Avished to escape into 
Holland. The Englishman, well paid, promise,! to convey her. Thus 
the duchess embarked, disguised in men's clothes, and Beached Rotter- 
dam without accident, where she once more assumed the dress of 
her own sex, and the splendor suitable to her rank. She was re- 
ceived with great kindness at the court of the Princess of Orange, 
daughter of Charles I. of England ; but she only remained there a 
few days, and set off hastily to throw herself into the fortress of 
Stenay." 

Meanwhile, the Princess of Conde was at Chantilly, conferring with 
the friends of her husband for his rehef, when news was received 
that an order had been despatched for her arrest. Almost immedi- 
ately there arrived Du Vouldy, a gentleman of the king's, who an- 
nounced that he was the bearer of letters to the princess and the 
princess dowager. Lenet, who controlled the council at Chantilly, at 
once persuaded the princess dowager to throw herself on her bed and 
counterfeit illness. He then passed in all haste to the apartment of 
the young princess, who was confined in bed of a real sickness. He 
induced her to rise and place Miss Gerbier, her maid of honor, in her 
place, and then to hasten to the apartment of her mother-in-law, and 
conceal herself behind her bed. 

Du Vouldy was then admitted to the presence of the princess dow- 
ager. He presented a lettre de cachet, which announced the com- 
mand of the king that the princesses should be removed to Chat- 
eauroux, where they were to be kept under the charge of Du Vouldy. 
The princess dowager replied, by stating that she was neither of an 
age nor health to start suddenly on the journey, and that she was 
going to write to the Duke of Orleans, to obtain time to recruit her 
health and make the necessary preparations. Meanwhile, he might 



154 louis. 

present the letter sent to the princess, and amuse himself about the 
chateau. 

"Du Vouldy proceeded, therefore, to the apartment of the young 
princess. There he was presented to Miss G-erbier, who had placed 
herself in her mistress's bed, and so perfectly mimicked her tone, her 
manner of speaking, the reproaches and complaints which she made 
against the queen and cardinal, and the tears which she appeared to 
shed, that she deceived Du Vouldy, not for that day only but for a 
whole week. He thought that he might venture to grant, without 
clanger, the delay which was asked of him, on the ground of ill- 
ness ; and in answer to some rumors which were afloat at Paris on 
the escape of the princess, he wrote word to the court that he could 
answer for the contrary, and that he saw her highness at all hours 
of the day ! 

"Meanwhile, a plan for the escape of the princess was prepared. A 
dark colored coach, without arms, was procured. For the better se- 
curity, in the event of any hostile meetings, the little prince was dis- 
guised in girl's clothes. The coach, drawn by only two horses, but in 
which harness had been put for four others, had been sent early in 
the evening as if for a drive to the entrance of the forest. A little 
while after four horses were taken out, as though to the water to 
drink, but they were in reality led towards the carriage. Then 
Clemence de Maille left the chateau on foot, followed by her son, her 
physician Bourdelot, and the ladies of Tourville, Gouville, and Chan- 
grand. She was escorted by two equerries, one of whom carried the 
young prince in his arms, and was, in case of an attack, to plunge 
with him into the depths of the forest. A century after, there was 
still shown at Chantilly, with interest, the road which was taken by 
this little party : it was by the side of a very ancient building called 
Bukan, between the gardens and the village. Having arrived at the 
opening of the forest, the ladies entered the coach and took the road 
by Louvres. At the same time Lenet, leading a few attendants, had 
mounted on horseback ; but not to give any suspicion by too large an 
escort, he passed by another road to the right. 

"At Sully the princess embarked to cross the Loire ; and as there 
was only one little boat, she had afterwards to wait some time 
till her carriage and horses had also crossed. During this time the 
people assembled along the bank of the river, on seeing so large an 



louis. 155 

equipage ; and, in spite of her disguise, Cleraence was recognized by 
a valet of the Duke de Sully, who ran off to announce it to his mas- 
ter." "We sat down," says Lenet, "on some large stones which lay 
there, as though we had all been of an equal condition in life ; and 
even, to remove all suspicions of the rank of the princess, she sat 
upon my knees, when of a sudden the valet of the Duke de Sully, 
calling me by name, I had not the presence of mind to avoid turning 
my head. I hastened, however to assure him that he mistook me 
for some one else, but he told me that he knew me very well, and 
that he wished to speak a word with me. Having drawn me aside, 
he told me that he recognized the princess perfectly, although thus 
disguised, and dressed in coarse clothes, and he named all the suite 
to me, and added that he saw we were making our escape : that he 
offered me from his master, who he said was the prince's very hum- 
ble servant, a retreat in his chateau, and eighteen thousand Iivres 
which he had received from his estates. I ran instantly to apprize 
the princess of this, who thanked him extremely, and drew from her 
finger a ring, which she gave him, without accepting any of his 
offers." 

"With no other incident of moment, the party arrived at Montrond. 
This place was immediately put in a state of defence. After a resi- 
dence here for some weeks, the princess, with her son, leaving it in 
charge of her friends, departed to join the armies of the Dukes de 
Bouillon and De la Rochefoucauld. The journey was accomplished 
in disguise, and was accompanied with numerous dificulties. On one 
occasion, hearing that they were pursued, the carriages were des- 
patched empty along one road, while the whole party, hastily mount- 
ed, rode rapidly off on another. The ruse proved successful, the fu- 
gitives escaping, while their enemies were pursuing the empty car- 
riages. 

In Bordeaux the populace were rising in her favor, and she hasten- 
ed to enter the town and present herself to the people. Her en- 
trance was a complete triumph, and she was greeted with shouts of 
" Long live the King and Princes, and down with Mazarin." But 
she was only admitted alone, the Parliament refusing to receive the 
two dukes, her confederates. But the populace rose up in in their 
favor. They entered by the acclamation of the people, and a few 



156 Louis. 

days after the Parliament was compelled to pass a ' decree, authori- 
zing their residence in the town. 

The princess applied to Spain for aid, and an envoy Avas des- 
patched from that government to Bordeaux, with three vessels laden 
with considerable treasure. This aroused the national feeling of 
many of the citizens. The patriotism of the Parliament did not be- 
lie itself for a moment. They met and passed a decree against " the 
arrival of the three Spanish frigates, and a certain Joseph Ozorio, a 
pretended envoy of his Catholic Majesty, with orders to treat as an 
outlaw the said envoy and the people in his train." 

Against this decree Clemence remonstrated, while the dukes stirred 
up the factious to a rebellion. An immense crowd, three thousand 
of them armed with swords, besieged the Palais de Justice, and threa- 
tened vengeance upon the magistrates, demanding a decree of union. 
The confusion and terror in the Parliament was to the extreme. The 
dukes refused to pacify the crowd, but the Princess hastened before 
the magistrates and offered to do this duty. She hastened to do so, 
and at first the populace refused to let her pass out until she had ob- 
tained justice from the Parliament. But at this juncture the news, 
arrived that a large body was marching to the support of the Parlia- 
ment. " Clemence took this opportunity of obtaining a passage by 
dint of entreaties, and passed through an avenue of two thousand 
drawn and waving swords as far as the portico of the Palais, when 
she perceived the troops, who were rushing on, and who, without 
seeing her, commenced a general charge. Two men were killed close 
to the Princess. But she, without fearing anything on her own ac- 
count, exclaimed, ' Let those that love me follow me,' and rushed 
into the very midst of the fire, followed by nearly all the gentlemen. 
Making herself known, she succeeded in obliging the partizans, ready 
to butcher each other, to lay down their arms, and to return to their 
homes, and she herself then went back to her hotel, accompanied by 
a thousand blessings. The terror, however, did not cease with the 
tumult: on the following days a deep and sullen silence reigned 
through the town, and the very next morning Don Joseph Ozorio re- 
embarked for Spain, still bewildered with the scene of the previous 
day, but promising to return with prompt and efficient succor." 

The royal army besieged Bordeaux, but now a change in affairs wa? 
preparing. The opposition to Mazarin was on the increase at Paris 




BORDEAUX (Present State.) 




ROTTEN. 



louis. 159 

a civil insurrection sprang up, he Avas obliged to flee from France, 
and the Queen Regent became detained as a prisoner. These events 
produced the release of the princes. 

But the erroneous policy of the prince produced fresh dissensions 
with the court, and the result was the return of the civil war. The 
complicated causes, the intrigues, jealousies and objects that led to 
the renewal of the war would take a volume to recount. The editor 
must confine himself to the simple relation of those events enacted 
during the war that appropriately can be admitted into this sketch. 

Shortly after the renewal of the war Conde undertook and performed 
one of the most perilous expeditions in the whole course of his career. 
The Dukes de Nemours and de Beaufort had been defeated at Jar- 
gean, and violent dissensions had sprung up between them. Conde 
was in Gascony, and his safety depended on his presence in the army 
of the Loire. He formed a project, as soon as he heard of the unfor- 
tunate misunderstanding between the two dukes, of joining their com- 
mand. " He allowed nothing to discourage him in his design, neither 
the hundred and twenty leagues of country which he would have to 
traverse, nor the deep and large rivers he would have to cross, nor 
the number of great towns he must avoid, nor the number of fortified 
castles on his route, nor the still greater danger of being recognized 
and seized by the gentlemen of the opposite party and their vassals. 
Besides, he must either endanger his secret by taking a numerous 
suite, or his person by taking only a few devoted servants. 

" Never had so perilous an expedition offered itself to the mind of 
the chief of a party — never either did prudence and skill more wor 
thily second courage. 

" He left Agen on the 24th of March, 1652, announcing a journey 
to Bordeaux for two or three days only. Many gentlemen accompa- 
nied him, but at some leagues from the town he devised several pre- 
texts for sending them back again, and kept with him only the Duke 
de la Rochefoucauld, and the Frince of Marsillac, his son, hardly fif- 
teen years of age, but whom his father was determined to associate 
in the honor of this enterprise ; the Marquis de Levis, the Count de 
Guitaut, and M. de Chavaignac : then Bercenet, Captain of the Duke 
de la Bochefoucauld's guards ; lastly Gourville, and only one valet- 
de-chambre. Thus, therefore, this little troop was composed of only 
nine persons. It was on the zeal and activity of Gourville that the 



160 LOUIS. 

Prince mainly relied for the guidance of tins journey, and the rrieans 
of their subsistence on the road. They marched with precaution, but 
with extraordinary speed, almost always without changing horses and 
without resting at night. They never remained more than two hours 
in the same place, either for sleeping or eating. Conde himself was 
disguised as a courier, and was called Motteville. One day in a little 
inn he was rather embarrassed by his disguise, for the host taking 
him for a servant told him to saddle and bridle a horse, but this he 
could never achieve. ' Another time,' says Gourville, ' we entered a 
village where there was a public-house. Finding nothing but eggs 
there, Monsieur le Prince piqued himself upon making a good omelet. 
The hostess having told him that he must turn it round, in order to 
make it fry the better, and taught him how it was to be done, on try- 
ing to execute these directions he threw it all into the fire. I begged 
the hostess to prepare another, and trust it to some better cook.' On 
another occasion they lodged at the house of a gentleman from Peri- 
gord, who was so far from suspecting Conde's disguise, that during 
the whole repast he amused himself with jests at the expense of Ma- 
dame de Longueville. The subject afforded ample scope for sarcasms; 
'and on this occasion,' says La Kochefoucauld, 'Monsieur le Prince 
must have learnt some news of his nearest relations of which he had 
perhaps remained ignorant till then.' 

" On the third morning before sunrise the Prince and his compa- 
nions arrived on the banks of the Dordogne. At that post difficulties 
were made in allowing people to pass the ferry if they were not 
known, particularly when there was a great number. Therefore, 
Gourville, leaving the others behind, went on alone, to find some 
means of getting them received. As he approached he heard the 
bells of some mules, and so managed his pace as to arrive at the same 
moment with them. The sound of the mules' bells had also attracted 
the boatman on the other bank, and he saw Gourville approach in 
the midst of all these mules without any suspicion ; but then Gour- 
ville, profiting by this opportunity, instantly sprang first into the 
boat, and by means of a silver whistle which he carried with him, 
gave the signal to the others to hasten to take their places. Some 
hours after, Gourville, walking with a guide whom he had engaged, 
and questioning him from time to time, perceived that he was ap- 
proaching a large village on the banks of the river, and asked him if 



LOUIS. 161 

they must enter it. The guide answered, No; but that they must 
pass quite close to the gate, which they would leave on their left, 
and that then the river ran so close to the walls that there was only 
the breadth of the road between them. He added, that for some 
days past a kind of guard was kept there. Gourville immediately 
put on a white scarf, which he had kept in reserve, and advanced 
alone. Finding a man outside the gate, he told him that he rather 
suspected some ill-looking fellows who were coming behind him, and 
he advised that none of them should be allowed to enter the town. 
This charitable advice was carefully obeyed. The gate was closed, 
and the people who were scattered upon the banks of the river has- 
tened to return within the walls; thus Conde's little troop passed 
quietly, and without being questioned, by the road to the right. 
' Prom thence,' says G-ourville, ' we went to refresh our horses in ? 
large village, where a countryman said to Monsieur le Prince that he 
knew him well, and accordingly did name him. Having overheard 
him, I burst out laughing, and some other persons coming up, I told 
them what had just happened. Jesting in this way, the poor man 
became bewildered, and did not know what to think.' In this very 
extraordinary march, both men and horses were ready to drop from 
exhaustion. The former could hardly stand whenever they dis- 
mounted, and more than once young Marsillac fainted away. Conde 
alone seemed superior to all fatigue, and animated the others by his 
gaiety. 

" At last, in the night of Holy Saturday, the gallant troop suc- 
ceeded in reaching the banks of the Loire, a little below what is call- 
ed ' Le Bee d'Allier] that is to say, the small tongue of land which 
lies between the two rivers, just before their junction. They had 
much difficulty in finding a boat ; they succeeded, however, at last, 
by the aid of the Marquis de Levis, who had a chateau in this neigh- 
borhood. Monsieur Le Prince and his companions landed upon the 
other bank, close to the gate of La Charite, a town where there was 
a Eoyal garrison, commanded by Count de Bussy Rabutin, the same 
who has become famous by his letters and his libels. The danger 
was great lest Conde and his friends should be made prisoners of war. 
They would have been so but for the presence of mind of the hero 
of Eocroy. When several soldiers had appeared before the gate, and 
the sentinel had asked, ' Who goes there ?' Monsieur le Prince re- 



162 louis. 

plied, ' Tell Monsieur de Bussy that I beg he will have the gates 
opened ; it is his friend Motteville who wishes to speak with him.' 
A soldier instantly went to execute this commission. Soon after 
Gourville said aloud to the Prince, ' You have time to sleep here, if 
you please, but we and the others, whose furlough ends to-morrow, 
must continue our journey :' and then he pretended to. go, and several 
others to follow him; and saying to the pretended Motteville, Stay 
if you like,' this latter began to walk away with them as though with 
great regret, complaining that they were strange people, but that he 
did not wish to separate himself from them, and begging that his com- 
pliments might be carried to the Governor. Deceived by this scene, 
the soldiers saw the little troop depart without any suspicion. 

"As soon as they were out of this peril the Prince desired Gour- 
ville to set off at full speed, and announce his arrival at Paris. He 
himself, with his other companions, arrived on Easter day before the 
gates of Cosne. In vain did his friends advise him to avoid this town, 
where there were some king's troops. Conde replied, ' It will be 
fine some day to boast of having traversed the entire kingdom as 
quietly as the messenger from Lyons, at a time when everybody was 
in arms against me!' He entered Cosne, therefore, with his compa- 
nions, saying everywhere that they were officers, going to take their 
turn of service near his Majesty. This boldness, at six leagues dis- 
tance only from the royal army, was on the point of costing him very 
dear. On leaving Cosne he met two couriers who came from the 
court, one of whom examined him closely for some time : Conde, 
thinking himself discovered, soon after left the high road, and struck 
across the country. He left Bercenet in a ruined house near a bridge 
on the road by which the courier must pass to return to the court, 
with orders to shoot him dead if he came. But the lucky star of this 
poor man, who had indeed recognized, not Conde, but Count de 
Guitaut, and who had afterwards stopped and questioned, with a pis- 
tol to his throat, the Prince's valet de chambre, made him take a by- 
road, and thus escape the death which awaited him. 

" In consequence of tins alarm, the prince's suite had dispersed. 
He had also sent his valet de chambre on before to Chatillon-sur- 
Loing, to desire the keeper to leave the park gate open ; so that at 
last only La Rochefoucauld and his son remained with him . They 
wandered for some time about the country ; young Marsillac always 



louis. 163 

a hundred paces before Monsieur le Prince, and the Duke at the same 
distance behind him, so that he might be warned by either of them 
of any danger, and might make use of that leisure to escape. Ad- 
vancing in this manner they heard pistol shots from the side on which 
the valet de chambre had gone towards Chatillon, and at the same 
time they saAv four horsemen to their left who were coming towards 
them at a rapid trot. Conde and his friends turned round to charge 
them, thinking themselves pursued, and quite resolved to die rathei 
than allow themselves to be taken. But what was their joy on re- 
cognizing Giutawt and Chavaignac, who had come to meet them with 
two other gentlemen ! 

" Thus did Conde, surmounting a thousand dangers, arrive at Cha- 
tillon, and introduce himself into the postern. His mother was now 
dead, and he had not entered his chateau since that occasion. But 
neither that recollection nor his own fatigue could then detain him. 
He recommenced his journey with all possible speed, and having re- 
ceived intelligence of the position of his troops, he found them near 
Lovies. 

" The troops received Conde as their deliverer with a joy and a 
surprise which cannot be described. Without losing a moment, al- 
though it was night, he fell suddenly upon his enemy, and taking 
them by surprise, completely routed them. Thus the great Conde, 
who seemingly to his enemies was transported by enchantment from 
the extremity of France, brought back victory and was heralded by 
her !" 

We will not follow him through the long contest that ensued. 
Through it he ever displayed great ability and wonderful military 
genius, with a personal heroism truly wonderful. At the battle of 
De la Porte St. Antoine, the great Turenne, and the great Conde 
fought within pistol shot of each other. " ' Did you see the Prince of 
Conde on that day?' " was afterwards asked of Monsieur de Turenne. 
' I did not see one Prince of Conde,' replied he, ' I saw more than 
twelve !' so rapidly did this hero appear to rush from danger to dan- 
ger, and from exploit to exploit. On that day he ran an especial 
risk. A gentleman, named St. Mesgrin, had vowed a personal hatred 
to him on account of Mademoiselle de Vigean, of whom St. Mesgrin 
had been greatly enamored, and on terms which might have led to 
their marriage ; but his love was forced to yield to the less legitimate 



164 JOHN. 

passion of Monsieur le Prince. From this bitter remembrance St. 
Mesgrin had conspired, with two of his friends, to make the person 
of Monsieur le Prince their first and only object in the conflict. All 
three of them, therefore, aimed at Conde amongst the little squadron 
of his friends,-— all three fell, mortally wounded at his feet. Towards 
mid-day, excessive fatigue and insupportable heat put a stop to the 
conflict for some moments. It is related that Monsieur le Prince, 
who wore a breast-plate, and who acted more than all the rest, was 
so completely soaked with perspiration and stifled by his armor, that 
he was obliged to have himself disarmed and unbooted, and to throw 
himself quite naked upon the grass in a field, where he rolled and 
wallowed like a tired horse ; then he dressed himself and was armed, 
and returned to end the conflict." 

Peace was eventually declared between the two factions, and Conde 
reinstated in power. Shortly after Mazarin died, and Louis XIV 
coming into his majority, Conde, through his brilliant reign contribu- 
ted to the great glory that at that time, more than almost at any 
other, surrounded the name of France. He died in 1686. His body 
was buried in the church of Vallery, and his heart was deposited in 
the Jesuits' Church in the Rue St. Antoine, at Paris. " In carrying 
to the same place," says his great grandson, " the heart of my uncle, 
the Count de Clermont, I had an opportunity of seeing all the hearts 
of our ancestors, which are deposited there, enclosed in silver-gilt 
cases ; and I remarked (as did also those who accompanied me) that 
the heart of the Great Conde was nearly double the size of all the 
others." 



JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH. 

" It was on the 24th of June, 1650, that John Churchill, afterwards 
Duke of Marlborough, was born. He early conceived such a taste for 
martial life, that he longed to distinguish himself as a soldier. He 
first embarked for Tangiers, and although his stay was short, yet in 
the sallies and skirmishes with the Moors, he showed that even now 
he possessed that courage and ability which in after years placed him 



JOHN. 165 

at the head of all the heroes of his time. After his return, he accom 
panied the Duke of Monmouth to the continent, to assist France 
against Holland. He soon had an opportunity to distinguish himself. 
A French officer during the siege of Nineguen had failed to retain a 
post of consequence, which he had been appointed to defend. When 
the news was brought to Marshall Turenne, he exclaimed : 

" I will bet a supper and a dozen of claret, that my handsome En- 
glishman will recover the post with half the number of men that the 
officer commanded who lost it !" 

" Churchill was despatched with a small company, and, after a short 
but desperate struggle retook the fort, won the Marshall his wager, 
and gained for himself the applause and admiration of the whole 
army. 

"Next year at the siege of Maestricht, he again distinguished him- 
self. At the head of his own company, he scaled the ramparts in the 
face of extraordinary odds, and while the bullets were whistling 
around him, and his companions were falling by his side, he planted 
the banner of France on the very summit, escaping with a slight 
wound. For this act of heroism, Louis XIV thanked him publicly, 
and made him Lieutenant-colonel. 

" He returned to England, and on the day James II was proclaim- 
ed, he was advanced to the rank of Lieutenant-general. He after- 
wards was still farther advanced to the rank of Earl of Marlborough on 
the accession of William and Anne. Soon after he was sent to Hol- 
land, to aid the Dutch allies of the English against the French. 
During the campaign he took three towns from the French, and it 
ended by the taking of Liege. 

" The evening that the army separated, a curious adventure befel 
Marlborough. Thinking it the easiest, quietest, and safest way, he 
embarked with the Dutch deputies in a boat, with a view of descend- 
ing the river Meuse for the Hague. A detachment of twenty-five 
soldiers, commanded by a lieutenant manned the boat. A larger boat 
with sixty men joined him, while fifty troops escorted them along the 
banks of the river. The troops, however, lost their way, and the 
larger boat went on without attending to its companion, thus leaving 
Marlborough with only his slender guard of twenty-five men. The 
French still had the town of Guilders in their hands ; and it so hap- 
pened that a party of five and thirty men, from the city, were lurking 



166 JOHN. 

among the reeds and sedges of the river in hope of ad renture. Most 
of the company on board Marlborough's boat had fallen asleep ; when, 
between eleven and twelve o'clock, those who were awake felt the 
tow-rope seized, and a discharge of arms quickly followed. Several 
soldiers were wounded, and the assailants rushed on board before 
any opposition could be offered. Thus a general whom the French 
army had scarcely courage to face during a whole summer, was taken 
prisoner by an insignificant party. 

" Where are your passes ?" growled the leader of the band. 

" The Dutch had taken care to provide themselves with French 
passports ; but Marlborough thought it beneath him to solicit a safe 
guard. At this moment an attendant slipped a paper into the Earl's 
hand, unperceived by the Frenchmen. 

" Now Monsieur, your passport." demanded the leader. 

" Marlborough presented the paper with an undismayed counte- 
nance. The least scrutiny would have been fatal ; for it was an old 
pass which had been granted to his brother, General Churchill, on 
another occasion. The calm indifference with which he offered it, 
and the night being dark, prevented the men from closely examining 
it. Contenting themselves, therefore, with searching the trunks and 
baggage, and helping themselves freely to what plate and things of 
value they contained, the adventurers suffered Marlborough and his 
companions to proceed. The Earl afterwards rewarded his attendant 
for his presence of mind. 

" In the succeeding campaigns he distinguished himself by a series 
of victories that ranked him as one of the great generals of the time, 
and for which he was created Duke of Marlborough. The celebrated 
victory of Blenheim has always been rated with the most brilliant 
exploits of modern times. As a reward to Marlborough a magnifi- 
cent palace was erected for him at the public expense, and to this 
day bears the name of the battle which it commemorates. 

" His personal prowess and daring always won the admiration of 
his army. At the battle of the Eamilies, he placed himself, at a critical 
juncture, at the head of the reserve, and led them to the charge. As 
he was leading on this reserve under a dreadful fire from the French 
batteries, he was recognized by some French soldiers, who made a sud- 
den rush at him. They had nigh well made him prisoner, for they 
succeeded in surrounding him before his men could come to the res- 



CHARLES OP SWEDEN. 167 

cue ; but he extricated himself from the throng of assailants by fight- 
ing his way out like the knights of old, sword in hand. He next 
tried to leap a ditch, but his horse fell in the attempt; and when 
mounting another given him by his aid-de-camp, Col. Bingford, who 
held his stirrup, had his head carried off by a cannon ball." 

What added greatly to the lustre of his name, was his humanity. 
At the close of a battle that had been fearfully bloody, he burst into 
tears, exclaiming, " I hope I shall never fight another such a battle 1" 
He died, June 16th, 1722. 



CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 

"On the 27th of June, 1682, was born King Charles XII, one of 
the most extraordinary men the world has produced. He was gen- 
tle in his infancy, yet he always betrayed an inflexible obstinacy. 
The only way to influence him was to awaken his sense of honor ; by 
mentioning the word glory, you might have obtained anything from 
him. He was early ambitious of emulating the deeds of Alexander 
the Great. At seven years of age, he could manage a horse ; and the 
violent exercises in which he delighted, and which discovered his 
martial disposition, soon procured him a vigorous constitution, capa- 
ble to support the incredible fatigues which his natural inclination al- 
ways prompted him to undergo. 

" On the fifteenth 'day of April, 1697, his father died, and then but 
fifteen years of age, he ascended the Swedish throne. The beginning 
of the king's reign gave no very favorable idea of his character. True 
it is he had no dangerous passion ; but his conduct discovered noth- 
ing but the sallies of youth, and the freaks of obstinacy. He seemed 
to be equally proud and lazy. The ambassadors, who resided at his 
court, took him for a person of mean capacity, and represented him 
-as such to their respective masters. The Swedes entertained the 
same opinion of him : nobody knew his real character : he did not 
even know it himself, until the storm that suddenly arose in the 
North gave him an opportunity of displaying his great talents, which 
had hitherto lay concealed. 



168 CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 

"Three powerful princes, taking the advantage of his youth, con- 
spired his ruin almost at the same time. The first was his own 
cousin, Frederick IV. King of Denmark : the second Augustus, Elec- 
tor of Saxony, and King of Poland : Peter the Great, Czar of Mus-^ 
covy, was the third, and the most dangerous. The news of the pre- 
parations made by these three powerful sovereigns struck the Swedes 
with consternation, and alarmed the council. All the great generals 
were now dead ; and everything was to be feared under the reign of 
a young king, who had hitherto given no very favorable impressions 
of his character. He hardly ever assisted at the council ; and when 
he did, it was only to sit cross-legged on the table, absent, inattentive, 
and seemingly regardless of everything that passed. 

" The council happened to hold a deliberation in his presence con- 
cerning the dangerous situation of affairs ; some of the members pro- 
posed to avert the storm by negotiations, when all on a sudden 
Charles rose with an air of gravity and assurance, like a man of su- 
perior consequence who has chosen his side : ' Gentlemen,' said he, 
' I am resolved never to begin an unjust war, nor ever finish a just 
one but by the destruction of my enemies. My resolution is fixed. I 
will attack the first that shall declare against me ; and, after having 
conquered him, I hope I shall be able to strike terror into the rest.' 
All the old counsellors were astonished at this declaration, and looked 
upon one another without daring to reply. Agreeably surprised to 
find their king possessed of such noble sentiments, and ashamed to be 
less sanguine in their expectations than him, they received his orders 
for the war with admiration. 

They were still more surprised when they saw him at once bid 
adieu to the innocent amusements of youth. The moment he began 
to make preparations for the war, he entered on a new course of life, 
from which he never afterwards deviated in one single instance. Full 
of the idea of Alexander and Caesar, he proposed to imitate those two 
conquerors in everything but their vices. No longer did he indulge 
himself in magnificence, sports, and recreations : he reduced his table 
to the most rigid frugality. He had formerly been fond of gayety 
and dress ; but from that time he was never clad otherwise than a 
common soldier. He was supposed to have entertained a passion for 
a lady of his court : whether there was any foundation for this sup- 
position does not appear ; certain it is, he ever after renounced all 



CHARLES OP SWEDEN. 169 

commerce with women, not only for fear of being governed by them, 
but likewise to set an example of continence to his soldiers, whom he 
resolved to confine within the strictest discipline ; perhaps too from 
the vanity of being thought the only king that could conquer a pas- 
sion so difficult to be overcome. He likewise determined to abstain 
from wine during the rest of his life. Some have said, that his only 
reason for taking this resolution was to subdue his vicious inclinations 
in everything, and to add one virtue more to his former stock ; but 
the greater number assert, that it was to punish himself for a riot he 
had committed, and an affront he had offered to a lady at table, even 
in presence of the queen-mother. If that be true, this condemnation 
of his own conduct, and this abstinence which he imposed upon him- 
self during the remainder of his life, is a species of heroism no less 
worthy of admiration. 

DESCENT ON COPENHAGEN. 

" His first campaign was against Denmark, and he set out upon it 
in the year 1700, in the eighteenth year of his age. He departed for 
the port of Carlscroon where he embarked in a fleet of three and 
forty vessels. It was arranged to make a descent, and to besiege 
Copenhagen by land, while it should be blocked up by sea. The 
king was in the first shallop that was dispatched to the shore. He 
was accompanied by the French ambassador, and Count Piper, his 
principal minister. They advanced under shelter of the cannon of the 
ships that favored the landing. The small boats were still about 
three hundred paces from the shore. Charles, impatient to land, 
jumped into the sea, sword in hand, the water reaching above his 
Waist. His ministers, the French ambassador, the officers, and sol- 
diers, immediately followed his example, and marched up to the 
shore, amidst a shower of musket-shot from the enemy. The king, 
who had never in his life before heard a discharge of muskets loaded 
with ball, asked Major Stuart, who stood next him, what meant that 
whistling which he heard. ' It is the noise of the musket balls, which 
they fire upon you,' replied the major. ' Very well,' says the king, 
' henceforward that shall be my music' At that instant the major 
received a shot in his shoulder, and a lieutenant on the other side of 
him fell dead at his feet. 

"Everything conspired to favor the ardor of Charles' courage. 



170 CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 

Deputies hastened from the town, and falling on their knees before 
Charles, begged of him not to bombard the town. He took up his 
position without the walls, and here dictated terms of peace. Thus, 
Charles XII., at eighteen years of age, began and finished this Avar in 
less than six weeks. 

MAKES WAR UPON THE RUSSIANS. 

" The only thing Charles had now to do, toward the finishing of 
his first campaign, was to inarch against his rival in glory, Peter 
Alexiowitz, known througho it the world as Peter the Great. The 
Czar was besieging Narva with eighty thousand men, when Charles 
crossed the sea and hastened to its relief. The Swedes were not 
above twenty thousand strong, but Peter, not content with eighty 
thousand men, gave orders for the march of thirty thousand, who 
were advancing from Pleskow with great expedition. He resolved 
to shut up Charles between the two armies. Nor was this all : a de- 
tachment of thirty thousand men from the camp before Narva were 
posted at a league's distance from the city, directly in the King of 
teweden's road : twenty thousand strelitz were placed farther oft* 
upon the same road; and five thousand others composed an advanced 
guard ; and he must necessarily force his way through all these troops 
before he could reach the camp, which was fortified with a rampart 
and double fosse. The King of Sweden had landed at Pernau, in the 
Gulf of Riga, with about sixteen thousand foot, and little more than 
four thousand horse. From Pernau he made a flying march to Revel, 
followed by all his cavalry, and only by four thousand foot. He al- 
ways marched in the van of his army, without waiting for the rear. 
He soon found himself, with his eight thousand men only, before the 
first posts of the enemy. He immediately resolved, without the least 
hesitation, to attack them, one after another, before they could pos- 
sibly learn with what a small number they had to engage. The Mus- 
covites seeing the Swedes come upon them, imagined they had a whole 
army to encounter. The advanced guard of five thousand men, posted 
among rocks, a station where one hundred resolute men might have 
stopped the march of a large army, fled at their first approach. The 
twenty thousand men that lay behind them, perceiving the flight of 
their fellow-soldiers, took the alarm, and carried their terror and con- 
tusion with them into the camp. All the posts were carried in two 



CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 171 

days ; and what upon other occasions would have been reckoned 
three distinct victories, did not petard the king's march for the space 
of one hour. He appeared then at last with his eight thousand men, 
exhausted with the fatigues of so long a march, before a camp of 
eighty thousand Muscovites, defended by a hundred and fifty pieces 
of cannon ; and, scarcely allowing his troops any time for rest, he in- 
stantly gave orders for the attack. 

" The signal was two fusees, and the word in German, ' With the 
aid of God.' A general officer having represented to him the great- 
ness of the danger, 'What,' says he, 'do not you think, that with my 
eight thousand brave Swedes, I may easily beat eighty thousand 
Eussians ?' But, soon after, fearing that what he had said might sa- 
vortoomuch of gasconade, he ran after the officer, ' And are not you,' 
says he, 'of the same opinion ? have not I double advantage over the 
enemy ? one, that their cavalry can be of no service to them ; the 
other, that the place being narrow their number Avill only incommode 
them; and thus in reality I shall be stronger than they.' The officer 
did not care to differ from him ; and thus they marched against the 
Muscovites about mid-day, on the 30th of November, 1700. 

" As soon as the cannon had made a breach in their intrenchments, 
the Swedes advanced with screwed bayonets, having a furious shower 
of snow on their backs, which drove full in the face of the enemy. 
The Eussians stood the shock for half an hour without flinching. The 
king made his attack upon the right of the camp, where the Czar's 
quarters lay, hoping to come to a rencounter with him, as he did not 
know that he had gone in quest of the forty thousand men, who 
were daily expected to arrive. At the first discharge of the enemy's 
muskets, he received a shot in his neck ; but as it was a spent ball, 
it lodged in the folds of his black neckcloth, and did him no harm. 
His horse was killed under him. He mounted another horse with 
great agility, saying, ' These fellows make me go through my exer- 
cise ;' and continued to fight and give orders with the same presence 
of mind. After an engagement of three hours, the intrenchments 
were forced on all sides. Tb& king pursued the right of the enemy 
as far as the river ISFarva, with his left wing ; if we may be allowed to 
call by that name about four thousand men, who were in pursuit of 
near forty thousand. The bridge broke under the fugitives, and the 
river was immediately filled with dead carcases. The rest returned 



172 CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 

to their camp, without knowing whither they went ; and finding 
some barracks, they took post behind them. There they defended 
themselves for a while, as they were not able to make their escape ; 
but at last their generals Dolgorouky, Grollofkin, and Fedeiowitz, 
surrendered themselves to the king, and laid their arms at his feet ; 
and, while they were presenting them to him, the duke de Croi came 
up and surrendered himself with thirty officers. 

" Charles received all these prisoners of distinction with as much 
civility and politeness as if he had been paying them the honors of 
an entertainment in his own court. He detained none but the gene- 
ral officers. All the subalterns and common soldiers were disarmed 
and conducted to the river Narva, where they were supplied with 
boats for passing over, and allowed to return to their own country. 
In the meantime night came on, and the right wing of the Musco- 
vites still continued to fight. The Swedes had not lost above six 
hundred men. Eight thousand Muscovites had been killed in their 
intrenchments ; many were drowned ; many had crossed the river ; 
and yet there still remained in the camp a sufficient number to cut off 
the Swedes to the last man. But the loss of battles is not so much 
owing to the number of the killed, as to the timidity of those who 
survive. The king employed the small remains of the day in seizing 
upon the enemy's artillery. He took possession of an advantageous 
post between the camp and the city, where he slept a few hours upon 
the ground, wrapt up in his cloak, intending at daybreak to fall upon 
the left wing of the enemy, which was not yet entirely routed. But 
at two o'clock in the morning, General Wade, who commanded that 
wing, having heard of the gracious reception the king had given to 
the other generals, and of his having dismissed all the subaltern offi- 
cers and soldiers, sent a messenger to him, begging him he would 
grant him the same favor ; the conqueror replied, that he should have 
it, provided he would come at the head of his troops, and make them 
lay their arms and colors at his feet. Soon after the general appeared 
with his Muscovites, to the number of about thirty thousand. They 
marched, both soldiers and officers, with their heads uncovered, 
through less than seven thousand Swedes. The soldiers, as they 
passed the king, threw their guns and swords upon the ground, and 
the officers presented him with their ensigns and colors. He caused 
the whole of this multitude to be conducted over the river, without 



CHARLES OP SWEDEN. 173 

detaining a single soldier. Had he kept them, the number of pris- 
oners would at least have been five times greater than that of the 
conquerors. 

"After this, he entered victorious into Narva, accompanied by the 
Duke de Croi, and other general officers of the Muscovites. He or- 
dered their swords to be restored to them all ; and, knowing that 
they wanted money, and that the merchants of Narva would not lend 
them any, he sent a thousand ducats to the Duke de Croi, and five 
hundred to every Muscovite officer, who could not sufficiently admire 
the civility of this treatment, of which they were incapable of form- 
ing the least conception. An account of the victory was immediately 
drawn up at Narva, in order to be sent to Stockholm, and to the 
allies of Sweden : but the king expunged with his own hand every 
circumstance in the relation tbat tended too much to his honor, or 
seemed to reflect upon the Czar." 

WAR UPON POLAND. 

" He now turned his victorious arms upon Poland. After spend- 
ing the winter at Narva, he appeared in Livonia, in the neighbor- 
hood of Riga. The Saxon troops were posted along the river Duna, 
which is very broad in that place ; and Charles, who lay on the other 
side of the river, was obliged to dispute the passage. He effected it 
by a stratagem. He sent floating down the river towards the Sax- 
ons, several boats filled with wet straw which had been fired. By 
this means a thick cloud of smoke effectually curtained their proceed- 
ings from the Saxons. He was the fourth person who landed on the 
opposite shore. A fearful battle ensued, and at one time the Swedes 
were driven back into the water, but the king rallied them in the 
stream, with as much composure as if he had been making a review. 
Victory eventually favored the Swedes. Here he was as victorious 
as ever, and the whole of Poland was soon at his feet, with Augus- 
tus, its king, a figitive. 

"One time, while before Thorn, in which town Augustus had 
thrown himself for defence, a remarkable incident occurred. In re- 
connoitering the town he frequently approached too near the ram- 
parts. In these dangerous excursions, the plain dress which he wore 
was of greater service to him than he imagined, as it prevented his 
being distinguished and marked out by the enemy, who would not 



L74 CHARLES OP SWEDEN. 

have failed to fire upon him. One clay, having advanced too near 
the fortifications, attended by one of his generals called Lieven, who 
was dressed in a blue coat trimmed with gold, and fearing lest the 
general should be too easily distinguished, he ordered him to walk 
behind him. To this he was prompted by that greatness of soul 
which was so natural to him, that it even prevented his reflecting 
on the imminent danger to which he exposed his own life, in order 
to preserve that of his subject. Lieven perceiving his error too late, 
in having put on a remarkable dress, which endangered all those who 
were near him, and being equally concerned for che king wherever 
he was, hesitated for a moment whether or not he should obey him. 
In the midst of this contest, the king takes him by the arm, puts him- 
self before him, and screens him with his body. At that instant, a 
cannon ball taking them in flank, struck the general dead upon the 
very spot which the king' had hardly quitted. The death of this 
man, killed exactly in his stead, and because he had endeaf ored to 
save him, contributed not a little to confirm him in the opinion, 
which he always entertained of absolute predestination ; and made 
him believe that his fate, which had preserved him in such a singu- 
lar manner, reserved him for the execution of greater underta- 
kings. 

" The following anecdote is told, illustrative of the severe disci- 
pline under which the troops of Charles were kept. They never 
were allowed to plunder the towns which they took by assault till 
they had received permission; and then they plundered in a regular 
manner, and left oft* at the first signal. The Swedes pique them- 
selves to this day on the strict discipline which they observed in 
Saxony ; and yet the Saxons complain of the terrible ravages they 
committed ; contradictions which it would be impossible to recon- 
cile, did not we know in what very different lights the same objects 
appear to different men. It could hardly happen but that the con- 
querors must have sometimes abused their rights ; and the conquer- 
ed have taken the slightest injuries for the most enormous outrages. 
One day, as the king was taking the air on horseback, in the neigh- 
borhood of Leipsic, a Saxon peasant threw himself at his feet, beg- 
ging he would do him justice on a grenadier, who had just taken from 
him what was designed for his family's dinner. The king ordered 
the soldier to be brought before him. ' And is it true,' says he, with 




THE SOETIE. 



CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 177 

a stern countenance, ' that you have robbed this man ?' ' Sir,' says 
the soldier, ' I have not done him so much harm as you have done 
to his master : you have taken a kingdom from him, and I have only 
taken a turkey from this fellow.' The king gave the peasant ten 
ducats with his own hand, and pardoned the soldier for the wit and 
boldness of his reply ; adding ' Eemember, friend, that if I have 
taken a kingdom from Augustus, I have kept nothing to myself.' " 

WAR IN RUSSIA AGAIN. 

" Charles was now penetrating Russia, with the ambitious hope of 
dictating terms of peace in Moscow. On the 22d of September, in 
1708, he attacked, near Smolensko, a body often thousand horse and 
six thousand Calmucks — or Tartars — with only six regiments of 
horse, and four thousand foot ; broke their ranks at the first onset, 
at the head of his Ostrogothick regiment, and obliged them to fly. 
He pursued them through rugged and hollow ways, where the Cal- 
mucks lay concealed, who soon began to show themselves and cut 
off the regiment in which the king fought from the rest of the Swe- 
dish army. In an instant, the Russians and Calmucks surrounded 
this regiment, and penetrated even to the king. Two aid-de-camps 
who fought near him fell at his feet. The king's horse was killed 
under him; and as one of his equerries was presenting him with an- 
other, both the equerry and horse were struck dead upon the spot. 
Charles fought on foot, surrounded by some of his officers, who in- 
stantly flocked around him. 

" Many of them were taken, wounded, or slain, or pushed to a 
great distance from the king by the crowds that assailed them ; so 
that he was left at last with no more than five attendants. With his 
own hand he had killed above a dozen of the enemy, without re- 
ceiving a single wound, owing to the surprising good fortune which 
had hitherto attended him, and upon which he always relied. At 
length a colonel, named Dardof, forced his way through the Cal- 
mucks, with a single company of his regiment, and arrived time 
enough to save the king. The rest of the Swedes put the Tartars to 
the sword. The army recovered its ranks; Charles mounted his 
horse, and, fatigued as he was, pursued the Russians for two 
leagues. 



173 CHARLES OF SWEDEN 

BATTLE OF PULTOWA. 

Since the terrible defeat Peter had received in his first encounter 
with Charles, he had been drilling his army and learning them the 
art of war. His frequent losses had been borne with a good grace, 
as he felt assured that eventually his superior numbers would acquire 
the skill to successfully combat the heretofore invincible prince. 
That time had now arrived. It was on the 8th of July, 1709, that 
the decisive battle of Pultowa was fought between the two most fa- 
mous monarchs that were then in the world. The Swedes number- 
ed scarcely more than twenty thousand, while the Muscovites out- 
numbered them far. The king's forces had been augmented by the 
aid of Mazeppa, who had revolted from Peter and come over to 
Charles, on account of some indignities he had received from the 
Russian monarch. Charles had been wounded in a reconnoitering 
party the day before, and carried on a litter, at the head of the in- 
fantry, he conducted the march. The first attack decided in favor of 
Charles, and the Swedes cried out victory. 

At nine the next morning the battle was renewed. A detach- 
ment of Russians cut off the communication between the Swedish 
army and their camp before Pultowa, while the Czar had twenty-two 
pieces of cannon and Charles only four ; he was also in want of pow- 
der. These advantages soon began to be felt on the Swedish hue. 
One of the first discharges of the Russian cannon carried off the two 
horses of Charles' litter. He caused two others immediately to be 
put to it. A second discharge broke the litter in pieces, and overturn- 
ed the king. Of four and twenty men, who mutually relieved each 
other in carrying him, one and twenty were killed. The Swedes, 
struck with consternation, began to stagger; and the cannon of the 
enemy, continuing to mow them down, the front line fell back upon 
the second, and the second began to fly. 

" The Prince of Wirtemberg, General Renschild, and several prin- 
cipal officers were already made prisoners ; the camp before Pultowa 
was stormed , and all was thrown into a confusion which it was im- 
possible to rectify. Count Piper, with some officers of the chancery, 
had left the camp, and neither knew what to do, nor what was be- 
come of the king; but ran about from one corner of the field to an- 
other. A major, called Rere, offered to conduct them to the bag- 



CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 170 

gage j but the clouds of dust and smoke which covered the plain, and 
the dissipation of mind so natural amidst such a desolation, brought 
them straight to the counterscarp of the town, where they were all 
made prisoners by the garrison. 

" The king scorned to fly, and yet was unable to defend himself. 
General Pouiatowsky happened to be near him at that instant. He 
was a colonel of Stanislaus' Swedish guards, a man of extraordinary 
merit, and had been induced, from his strong attachment to the per- 
son of Charles, to follow him into the Ukraine, without any post in 
the army. He was a man, who, in all the occurrences of life, and 
amidst those dangers, when others would at most have displayed 
their courage, always took his measures with dispatch, prudence and 
success. He made a sign to two Drabants, who took the king under 
the arm, and placed him on his horse, notwithstanding the exquisite 
pain of his wounds. 

Poniatowsky, though he had no command in the army, became on 
this occasion a general through necessity, and drew up five hundred 
horse near the king's person ; some of them Drabants, others officers, 
and a few private troopers. This body being assembled and ani- 
mated by the misfortune of their prince, forced their way through 
more than ten Russian regiments, and conducted Charles through the 
midst of the enemy, for the space of a league, to the baggage of the 
Swedish army. 

" Charles, being closely pursued in his flight, had his horse killed 
under him ; and Colonel Gieta, though wounded and spent with loss 
of blood, gave him his. Thus in the course of the flight they twice 
put this conqueror on horseback, though he had not been able to 
mount a horse during the engagement. 

" This surprising retreat was of great consequence in such distress- 
ful circumstances ; but he was obliged to fly to a still greater dis- 
tance. They found Count Piper's coach among the baggage ; for the 
king had never used once since he left Stockholm ; they put him in- 
to this vehicle, and fled towards the Boristhenes with great precipi- 
tation. The king, who, from the time of his being set on horseback 
till his arrival at the baggage, had not spoke a single word, at length 
inquired, what was become of Count Piper ? They told him he was 
taken prisoner, with all the officers of the chancery. ' And General 
Renschild and the Duke of Wirtemberg ?' added the king. ' Yes,' 



180 CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 

says Poniatowsky. ' Prisoners to the Kussians ?' resumed Charles, 
shrugging up his shoulders. ' Come, then, let us rather go to the 
Turks.' They could not perceive, however, the least mark of de- 
jection in his countenance ; and had any one seen him at that time, 
without knowing his situation, he would never have suspected that 
he was conquered and wounded. 

" While he was getting off, the Russians seized his artillery in the 
camp before Pultowa, his baggage, and his military chest, in which 
they found six millions in specie, the spoils of Poland and Saxony. 
Nine thousand men, partly Swedes, and partly Cossacks, were killed 
in the battle, and about six thousand taken prisoners. There still re- 
mained about sixteen thousand men, including the Swedes, Poles 
and Cossacks, who fled towards the Boristhenes, under the conduct 
of General Levenhaupt. He marched one way with his fugitive 
troops, and the king took another road with some of his horse. The 
coach in which he rode broke down by the way, and they again set 
him on horseback ; and, to complete his misfortune, he wandered all 
night in a wood ; where, his courage being no longer able to sup- 
port his exhausted spirits, the pain of his wound becoming more in- 
tolerable through fatigue, and his horse falling under him through 
excessive weariness, he lay some hours at the foot of a tree, in dan- 
ger of being surprised every moment by the conquerors, who were 
searching for him on all sides. 

" At last, on the 9th or 10th of July, at night, he found himself 
on the banks of the Boristhenes. Levenhaupt had just arrived with 
the shattered remains of his army. It was with an equal mixture of 
joy and sorrow that the Swedes again beheld their king, whom they 
thought to be dead. The enemy was approaching. The Swedes had 
neither a bridge to pass the river, nor time to make one, nor powder 
to defend themselves, nor provisions to support an army, which had 
eat nothing for two days. But the remains of this army were 
Swedes, and the conquered king was Charles XII. Most of the offi- 
cers imagined that they were to halt there for the Russians, without 
flinching ; and that they would either conquer or die, on the banks 
of the Boristhenes. Charles would undoubtedly have taken the reso- 
lution,, had he not been exhausted with weakness. His wound was 
now come to a suppuration, attended with a fever ; and it hath been 
remarked, that men of the greatest intrepidity, when seized with the 



CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 181 

fever that is common in a suppuration, lose that impulse to valor, 
which, like all other virtues, requires the direction of a clear head. 
Charles was no longer himself. This, at least, is what his friends have 
asserted, and what indeed is extremely probable. They carried him 
along like a sick person in a state of insensibility. Happily there 
was left a sorry calash, which by chance they had brought along 
with them ; this they put on board a little boat ; and the king and 
General Mazeppa embarked in another. The latter had saved several 
coffers full of money ; but the current being rapid, and a violent wind 
beginning to blow, the Cossack threw more than three-fourths of 
his treasures into the river to lighten the boat. Mullern, the king's 
chancellor, and Count Poniatowsky, a man more necessary to the 
king than ever, on account of his admirable dexterity in finding ex- 
pedients for all difficulties, crossed over in some basks with some offi- 
cers. Three hundred troopers of the king's guards, and a great num- 
ber of Poles and Cossacks, trusting to the goodness of their horses, 
ventured to pass the river by swimming. Their troop, keeping close 
together, resisted the current, and broke the waves; but all those 
who attempted to pass separately a little below were carried down 
by the stream, and sunk in the river. Of all the foot who attempted 
to pass, there was not a single man that reached the other side. 

While the shattered remains of the army were in this extremity, 
Prince Menzikoff came up with ten thousand horsemen, having each 
a foot soldier behind him. The carcases of the Swedes, who had 
died by the way, of their wounds, fatigue, and hunger, showed 
Prince Menzikoff but too plainly the road which the fugitive army 
tad taken. The prince sent a trumpet to the Swedish general, to 
offer him a capitulation. Four general officers were presently dis- 
patched by Levenhaupt to receive the commands of the conqueror. 
Before that day, sixteen thousand soldiers of King Charle3 would 
have attacked the whole forces of the Eussian empire, and would 
have perished to a man rather than surrender ; but, after the loss of 
a battle, and a flight of two days, deprived of the presence of their 
prince, who was himself constrained to fly, the strength of every sol- 
dier being exhausted, and their courage no longer supported by the 
least prospect of relief, the love of life overcame their natural intre- 
pidity. Colonel Troutfetre alone, observing the Muscovites ap- 
proach, began to advance with one Swedish battalion to attack them. 



182 CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 

hoping by this means to induce the rest of the troops to follow his 
example. But Levenhaupt was obliged to oppose this unavailing ar- 
dor. The capitulation was settled, and the whole army made pri- 
soners of war. Some soldiers, reduced to despair, at the thoughts of 
falling into the hands of the Muscovites, threw themselves into 
the Boristhenes. Two officers of the regiment commanded by 
the brave Troutfetre, killed each other, and the rest were made 
slaves. They all filed off in presence of Prince Menzikoff, laying their 
arms at his feet, as thirty thousand Muscovites had done nine years 
before at those of the King of Sweden at Narva. But whereas the 
king sent back all the Russians, whom he did not fear, the Czar re- 
tained the Swedes that were taken at Pultowa. 

" Charles XII. had lost in one clay the fruit of nine years' labor, 
and of almost a hundred battles. He made his escape in a wretch- 
ed calash, attended by major-general Hoord, who was dangerously 
wounded. The rest of his little troop followed, some on foot, some 
on horseback, and others in wagons, through a desert, where neither 
huts, tents, men, beasts, or roads were to be seen. Everything was 
wanting, even to water itself. It was now the beginning of July ; 
the country lay in the forty-seventh degree of latitude ; the dry sand 
of the desert rendered the heat of the sun the more insupportable ; 
the horses fell by the way ; and the men were ready to die with 
thirst. A brook of muddy water which they found towards evening 
was all they met with ; they filled some bottles with this water, 
which saved the fives of the king's little troop. After a march of five 
days, he at last found himself on the banks of the river Hypanis, now 
called Bogh by the barbarians, who have spoiled not only the general 
face, but even the very names of those countries, which once flourish- 
ed so nobly in the possession of the Greek colonies. This river joins 
the Boristhenes some miles lower, and falls along with it into the 
Black Sea. Here great delay occurred before the passage could be 
effected, and part of the Russian army coming up five hundred men 
fell into their hands. He now entered the Turkish empire where he 
was received with every attention and conducted to Bender in a 
splendid manner. Achmet III. was then the emperor of the Turks, 
who entertained the royal fugitive with a princely hospitality. He 
resided at Bender." 



CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 183 

ADVENTURES IN TURKEY. 

Though Charles XII. was in reality no better than a prisoner hon- 
orably treated in Turkey, he yet formed the design of arming the 
Ottoman Empire against his enemies. Augustus had been reinstated 
to the throne of Poland, and Charles flattered himself that with the 
aid of Turkey he should be enabled to reduce Poland and subdue 
Russia. Negotiations were opened, but were cut short by a peace 
with Peter. The Sultan now wished to be rid of Charles, and ob- 
tained the consent of Austria for Charles to pass through his domin- 
ions. But the king fancied it was a trap to throw him into the hands 
of Augustus. In vain the Sultan urged, the Turkish generals per- 
suaded, and his own officers remonstrated, he would not stir without 
an army at his back. Letter after letter came from the Sultan de- 
manding his absence, but Charles pronounced them forgeries, would 
not give up the hope of combining with the Sultan for the subjuga- 
tion of Russia, and with inflexible obstinacy refused to leave. He 
had built for occupation a stone-house without the town of Bender, 
which shortly became the scene of an adventure of a most remark 
able nature. The Sultan exasperated at the continued obstinacy of 
Charles in refusing to leave his kingdom in peace, ordered the Cham 
of Tartary and the Bashaw of Bender to effect his arrest. When 
Charles heard of these orders he threw up intrenchments around his 
house, and with three hundred Swedes took up a position. It being 
a principal article in the treaty with the Russians to oblige the king 
to depart, measures were now taken to effect it. The Turkish army 
was marched against Charles. To the urgent request of his officers 
that he would yield to the demands of the Sultan he replied that the 
grand Seignior had promised him an army, and not a guard, and that 
he would not stir without one. He also suspected that Augustus 
had made a bargain with the Tartars for his person, and with this 
suspicion settled in his mind, he was confirmed in his resolution not 
to depart without a suitable protection. 

The intrenchments were raised, the house barricaded, and Charles's 
little camp was invested on all sides. For some time the attack was 
delayed until orders should be received whether the Swedes should be 
put to the sword if they continued to resist and refused to surrender, 
to which effect having been at last received, and Charles still deter 



184 CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 

mined upon resisting the whole Turkish army, preparations for the 
attack were made. The destruction of Charles now seemed inevi- 
table. 

" The generals Hoord and Dardoff, who had always declared against 
hazarding a battle which could not be attended but with fatal con- 
sequences, showed the king their breasts covered with wounds, which 
they had received in his service ; and assuring him that they were 
ready to lay down their lives for his sake, begged that it might be, at 
least, upon a more necessary occasion. 'I know,' says Charles XII. 
' by your wounds and by my own, that we have fought valiantly to- 
gether. You have hitherto done your duty, do it to-day likewise.' 
Nothing now remained but to pay an implicit obedience to the king's 
command. Every one was ashamed not to court death with their 
sovereign. Charles, being now prepared for the assault, enjoyed in 
secret the pleasing thought that he should have the honor of sustain- 
ing with three hundred Swedes the united efforts of a whole army. 
He assigned to every man his post. His chancellor, Mullern, and the 
secretary, Empreus, and his clerks, were to defend the chancery- 
house ; baron Fief, at the head of the officers of the kitchen, was 
stationed in another post. A third place was to be guarded by the 
grooms of the stable and the cooks ; for with him every one was a 
soldier. He rode from the intrenchments to his house, promising 
rewards to every one, creating officers, and assuring them that he 
would exalt the very meanest of his servants, who should fight with 
courage and resolution, to the dignity of captains. 

" It was not long before they beheld the combined army of the 
Turks and Tartars advancing to attack this little camp with ten pieces 
of cannon and two mortars. The Turks marched up to the fortifi- 
cations, the Tartars were already waiting for them, and the cannon 
began to play. The Janissaries on one side, and Tartars on the other, 
instantly forced the little camp. Hardly had twenty Swedes time to 
draw their swords, when the whole three hundred were surrounded 
and taken prisoners without resistance. The king was then on horse- 
back, between his house and his camp, with the generals Hoord, Dar- 
doff, and Sparre ; and seeing that all his soldiers had suffered them- 
selves to be taken prisoners before his eyes, he said, with great com- 
posure, to these three officers, 'Come, let us go and defend the house; 
we will fight,' adds he with a smile, 'pro aris tt focis? 



CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 185 

" Accordingly, accompanied by these three generals, he forthwith 
gallops up to the house, in which he had placed about forty domes- 
tics as sentinels, and which he had fortified in the best manner he 
could. 

" The generals, accustomed as they were to the dauntless intrepid- 
ity of their master, could not help being surprised to see him resolve 
in cold blood, and even with an air of pleasantry, to defend himself 
against ten pieces of cannon, and a whole army : nevertheless they 
followed him, with some guards and domestics, making in all about 
twenty persons. 

" When they came to the door, they found it beset by the janissa- 
ries. Besides, two hundred Turks and Tartars had already entered 
by a window, and made themselves masters of all the apartments, 
except a large hall where the king's domestics had retired. Happily 
this hall was near the door, at which the king designed to enter with 
his little troop of twenty persons. He threw himself off his horse 
with pistol and sword in hand, and his followers did the same. 

" The janissaries fell upon him on all sides. They were animated 
with the promise which the bashaw had made, of eight ducats of gold 
to every man who should only touch his clothes, in case they could 
take him. He wounded and killed all those who came near him. A 
janissary, whom he wounded, clapped his blunderbuss to his face, and 
had he not been jostled by the arm of a Turk, owing to the crowd 
that moved backwards and forwards like waves, the king had cer- 
tainly been killed. The ball grazed upon his nose, and carried off part 
of his ear, and then broke the arm of general Hoord, whose constant 
fate it was to be wounded by his master's side. 

" The king plunged his sword in the janissary's breast. At the 
same time, his domestics, who were shut up in the great hall, open the 
door to him. The king, with his little troop, springs in like an arrow. 
They instantly shut the door, and barricade it with whatever they 
can find. Thus was Charles XII. shut up in this hall with all his at- 
tendants, consisting of about sixty men, officers, guards, secretaries, 
valets de chambre, and domestics of every kind. 

" The janissaries and Tartars pillaged the rest of the house, and 
filled the apartments. ' Come,' says the king, ' let us go and drive 
out these barbarians ;' and putting himself at the head of his men, 



186 CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 

he with his own hands opens the door of the hall that leads to his 
bed-chamber, rushes into the room, and fires upon the plunderers. 

" The Turks, loaded with spoil, and terrified at the appearance of 
the king, whom they had ever been accustomed jo respect, threw 
down then arms, leap out of the window, or fly to the cellars. The 
king, taking advantage of their confusion, and his own men being 
animated by the success of this attempt, they pursue the Turks from 
chamber to chamber, kill or wound those who had not made their 
escape, and in a quarter of an hour clear the house of the enemy. 

" In the heat of the fight the king perceived two janissaries who 
lay concealed under his bed, one of them he stabbed with his sword, 
the other asked pardon, by crying, 'Amman.' — 'I give you your life,' 
says the king to him, ' on this condition, that you go and give the 
basha a faithful account of what you have seen.' The Turk readily 
promised to do as he was bid, and was allowed to leap out at the 
window like the rest. 

" The Swedes having at last made themselves masters of the house, 
again shut and barricadoed the windows. They were in no want of 
arms. A ground-room full of muskets and powder had escaped the 
tumultuary search of the janissaries : these they employed to good 
purpose. They fired through the windows almost close upon the 
Turks, of whom, in less than half a quarter of an hour they killed two 
hundred. The cannon still played upon the house ; but the stones 
being very soft, there were only some holes made in the walls, and 
nothing was demolished. 

" The cham of Tartary, and the basha, were desirous of taking the 
king alive, being ashamed to lose so many men, and to employ a 
whole army against sixty persons, thought it most advisable to set 
fire to the house, in order to oblige the king to surrender. They or- 
dered some arrows, twisted about with lighted matches, to be shot 
upon the roof, and against the doors and windows. In a moment 
the house was in flames. The roof all on fire was ready to tumble 
upon the Swedes. The king, with great calmness, gave orders to 
extinguish the fire. Finding a small barrel full of liquor, he took it 
up, and being assisted by two Swedes, threw it upon the place where 
the fire was most violent. At last he recollected that the barrel was 
full of brandy ; but the hurry inseparable from such a scene of con- 
fusion, hindered him from thinking of it in time. The fire now raged 



CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 187 

with double fury. The king's apartment was reduced to ashes. 
The great hall where the Swedes were, was filled with a terrible 
smoke, mixed with sheets of flame, that darted in at the doors of the 
neighboring apartments. One half of the roof sunk within the house, 
the other fell on the outside, cracking amidst the flames. 

" In this extremity, a sentinel called "Walberg, ventured to cry, that 
there was a necessity for surrendering. 'What a strange man is this,' 
says the king, ' to imagine, that it is not more glorious to be burnt 
than taken prisoner !' Another sentinel, named Eosen, had the pres- 
ence of mind to observe, that the chancery-house, which was not 
above fifty paces distant, had a stone roof, and was proof against fire ; 
that they ought to sally forth, take possession of that house, and then 
defend themselves to the last extremity. ' There is a true Swede for 
you,' cries the king, and embracing the sentinel, he made him a colo- 
nel upon the spot. ' Come on, my friends,' says he, ' take as much 
powder and ball with you as you can, and let us take possession of 
the chancery, sword in hand.' 

" The Turks, who all the while surrounded the house, were struck 
with fear and admiration, to see the Swedes continue in it, notwith- 
standing it was all in flames ; but their astonishment was greatly in- 
creased when they saw the doors opened, and the king and his fol- 
lowers rushing out upon them like so many madmen. Charles and 
his principal officers were armed with sword and pistol. Every man 
fired two pistols at once, the moment the doors were opened ; and in 
the twinkling of an eye, throwing away their pistols, and drawing 
their swords, they made the Turks recoil above fifty paces ; but in a 
moment after, this little troop was surrounded. The king, who was 
booted as usual, entangled himself with his spurs and fell. One and 
twenty janissaries at once spring upon him. He throws up his sword 
into the air, to save himself the mortification of surrendering it. The 
Turks bear him to the basha's quarters, some taking hold of his arms, 
and others of his legs, in the same manner as sick persons are wont 
to be carried, in o^der to prevent their being hurt. 

"No sooner did the king see himself in their hands, than the vio- 
lence of his temper, and the fury which such a long and desperate 
fight must have naturally inspired, gave place at once to a mild and 
gentle behavior : not one word of impatience dropped from his lips ; 
not one angry look was to be seen in his face. He eyed the janis- 
8 



188 CHARLES OP SWEDEN. 

saries with a smiling countenance, and they carried him off crying, 
"Alia,' with a mixture of respect and indignation. His officers were 
taken at the same time and stripped by the Turks and Tartars. It 
was on the 12th of February, 1713, that this strange event happened ; 
an event that was followed with very remarkable consequences." 

RETURNS TO SWEDEN. 

At last, despairing of obtaining a Turkish army with which to fight 
his way through Eussia, Charles signified to the Sultan his desire of 
returning to Sweden through Germany. His request was granted, 
and with a large convoy he started on his return. Through Germany 
he was received everywhere with great respect and attention. As 
soon as he arrived at Targowitz on the confines of Transylvania, he 
took leave of his Turkish army ; and then assembling his attendants 
in a barn, he told them not to give themselves any concern about 
him, but to proceed with all possible expedition to Stralsund in Po- 
merania, on the coast of the Baltic, distant from Targowitz about 
three hundred leagues. 

" He took nobody with him but two officers, Eosen and During, 
and parted cheerfully with the rest of his attendants, who were filled 
with astonishment, sorrow, and apprehension. By way of disguise, 
he put on a black wig, concealing his own hair, which he always wore 
underneath it, a gold laced hat, a grey coat, and blue cloak ; and, as- 
suming the name of a German officer, rode post with his two fellow- 
travellers. 

" He shunned, as much as possible, the territories of his secret or 
declared enemies, taking the road through Hungary, Moravia, Aus- 
tria. Bavaria, Wirtemberg, the Palatinate, Westphalia, and Mecklen- 
burg ; by which means he almost made the complete tour of Ger- 
many, and lengthened his journey by one half. Having rode the 
whole first day, without intermission, young During, who was not so 
much inured to these excessive fatigues, fainted away as he was dis- 
mounting. The king, who was determined not to halt a moment by 
the road, asked During, as soon as he had recovered, how much 
money he had? 'About a thousand crowns in gold,' replies During. 
' Then give me one half of it,' says the king : ' I see you are not able 
to follow me — I shall finish the jouruey by myself.' During begged 



CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 189 

he would be so good as to tarry but for three hours, assuring him, 
that by that time he should be able to remount his horse and attend 
his majesty, and entreated him to reflect on the imminent dangers to 
which he would expose himself by travelling alone. The king was 
inexorable. He made him give him the five hundred crowns, and 
called for horses. During, startled at this resolution, bethought him- 
self of an innocent stratagem. He took the post-master aside, and 
pointing to the king — ' This gentleman,' says he, ' is my cousin : we 
are going together upon the same business : he sees that I am indis- 
posed, and yet he will not wait for me but for three hours : pray give 
him the worst horse in your stable, and let me have a chariot or 
post-chaise.' 

" He slipped two ducats into the post-master's hand, who punctu- 
ally obeyed his orders. The king had a lame and restive horse, upon 
which he set out alone at ten at night, amidst darkness, snow, wind, 
and rain. ' His fellow traveller, after having slept a few hours, began 
to follow him in a chariot, with good horses. He had not rode many 
miles, when, at day-break, he overtook the king, who not being 
able to make his beast move on, was travelling on foot for the next 
stage. 

" Charles was obliged to get into During's chaise, where he slept 
upon the straw. Thus they continued the journey without intermis- 
sion, by day on horseback, and sleeping by night in a chaise." 

" Having travelled for sixteen days, during which they had more 
than once been in danger of being taken, they arrived at last, on the 
21st of November, 1714, at the gates of Stralsund, about one in the 
morning. 

" The king called out to the sentinel, and told him that he was a 
courier dispatched from Turkey by the king of Sweden, and that he 
must immediately speak with General Ducker, the governor. The 
sentinel said it was too late, that the governor was gone to bed, and 
that he must wait till break of day. 

" The king replied, that he came upon business of importance, and 
that, if they did not instantly go and awaken the governor, they 
should all be punished next morning. At last, a sergeant went and 
called up the governor. Ducker imagined that it might possibly be 
one of the king's generals ; the gates were opened, and the courier 
introduced into the governor's chamber. 



190 CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 

" Ducker, who was still half asleep, asked him, ' What news of the 
king of Sweden ?' The king taking him by the arm, ' What,' says 
he to Ducker, 'have my most faithful subjects forgot me?' The 
governor recollected, the king, though he could not believe his own 
eyes; and, jumping out of bed, embraced his master's knees with 
tears of joy. The news of this happy event were spread through the 
town in a moment. Everybody got up. The soldiers nocked about 
the governor's house. The streets were crowded with people, asking 
each other whether the king was really come. All the windows 
Were illuminated ; and the conduits ran with wine, amidst the blaze 
of a thousand flambeaux, and the repeated discharges of the artil- 
lery. 

" Meanwhile the king was put to bed, which was more than he had 
been for sixteen days before. His legs were so much swollen with 
the great fatigue he had undergone, that, instead of pulling, they 
were obliged to cut off his boots. As he had neither linen nor clothes, 
they immediately furnished him with such a wardrobe as the town 
could afford. After he had slept a few hours, he rose and went di- 
rectly to review his troops, and visit his fortifications ; and that very 
day he dispatched orders into all parts for renewing the war against 
his enemies with greater vigor than ever." 

MISFORTUNES AFTER HIS RETURN. 

" Charles's misfortunes now came as thick upon him as his victo 
ries had formerly done. In the month of June, 1715, the German 
troops of the king of England, with those of Denmark, invested the 
strong town of Wismar, while the combined army of the Danes and 
Saxons, amounting to thirty-six thousand men, marched towards 
Stralsund, to form the siege of that place. The kings of Prussia and 
Denmark sunk five Swedish ships a little off Stralsund. The Czar 
was then in the Baltic, with twenty large ships of war, and a hun- 
dred and fifty transports, on board of which were thirty thousand 
men. He threatened a descent upon Sweden ; one while approach- 
ing the coast of Helsimburg, and at another appearing before Stock- 
holm. All Sweden was in arms upon the coasts, and every moment 
expected an invasion. At the same time the Czar's land forces drove 
the Swede3 from post to post, until they had dispossessed them of all 



CHARLES OP SWEDEN. 191 

the places they held in Finland, towards the gulf of Bothnia. But 
Peter pushed his conquests no farther. 

"At the same time he lost Usedown, an important island, while he 
himself was shut up in Stralsund with nine thousand men, besieged 
by thirty-six thousand. The besiegers carried on their work with 
decided vigor, and obtained possession of one of the fortifications, the 
cannons of which they turned upon the town, which was cannonaded 
and bombarded without intermission. 

" Opposite to Stralsund, in the Baltic sea, lies the island of Bugen, 
which was of the last importance to Charles. His enemies, under 
Prince Anhalt had landed twelve thousand men on the island, and 
the king then being there with two thousand men, he put himself at 
the head of his little troop, and observing the most profound silence, 
advanced at midnight towards his foe. 

"The Prince of Anhalt had already intrenched his forces, a precau- 
tion which seemed altogether unnecessary. The inferior officers never 
dreamed of being attacked the very first night, as they imagined 
Charles to be at Stralsund ; but the Prince of Anhalt, who well knew 
what incredible things Charles was capable of attempting, had caused 
a deep fosse to be sunk, fenced with chevaux de frise; and indeed 
took all his measures with as much circumspection, as if he had had a 
superior army to contend with. 

"At two in the morning Charles reached the enemy's camp with 
out making the least noise. His soldiers said to each other, — ' Come, 
let us pull up the chevaux de frise.' These words being overheard 
by the sentinels, the alarm was instantly given in the camp, and the 
enemy stood to their arms. The king, taking up the chevaux de 
frise, perceived a deep ditch before him. ' Ah !' says he, ' is it pos- 
sible? this is more than I expected.' However, this unexpected 
event did not disconcert him. He was alike ignorant of the number 
of the enemy, and they of his. The darkness of the night seemed to 
favor the boldness of the attempt. He formed his resolution in a mo- 
ment, and jumped into the ditch, accompanied by the bravest of his 
men, and instantly followed by all the rest. The chevaux de frise, 
which were presently plucked up, the levelled earth, the trunks and 
branches of such trees as they could find, and the carcases of the sol- 
diers that were killed by random shot, served for fascines. The king, 
the generals, and the bravest of the officers and soldiers, mounted 



192 CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 

upon the shoulders of others, as in an assault. The fight began in 
the enemy's camp. The irresistible impetuosity of the Swedes soon 
threw the Danes and Prussians into confusion ; but the numbers were 
too unequally matched. After a keen dispute for a quarter of an 
hour, the Swedes were repulsed, and obliged to repass the fosse. 
The Prince of Anhalt pursued them into the plain, little thinking it 
was Charles XII, that fled before him. The unhappy monarch rallied 
his troops in the open field, and the battle was renewed with equal 
fury on both sides. G-rothusen, the king's favorite, and General Dar- 
doff, fell dead at his feet. In the heat of the fight Charles passed over 
the body of the latter, who was still breathing ; and During, who had 
accompanied him in his journey from Turkey to Stralsund, was killed 
before his face. 

" In the midst of the fray, a Danish lieutenant, knew the king ; 
and seizing his sword with one hand, and with the other dragging 
him by the hair, — ' Surrender yourself,' said he, ' or you are a dead 
man.' The king drew a pistol from his belt, and, with his left hand, 
fired at the officer, who died of the wound the next morning. The 
name of king Charles, which the Dane had pronounced, immediately 
drew a crowd of the enemy together. The king was surrounded, and 
received a musket shot below his left breast. The wound, which he 
called a contusion, was two fingers deep. Charles was on foot, and 
in the most imminent danger of being killed or taken prisoner. At 
that critical moment Count Poniatowsky fought near his majesty's 
person ; he had saved his life at Pultowa, and had now the good for- 
tune to save it once more in the battle of Rugen, by putting him on 
his horse. 

" The Swedes retired to a part of the island called Alteferra, where 
there was a fort, of which they were still masters. From thence the 
king passed over to Stralsund, obliged to abandon his brave troops 
who had so courageously assisted him in this daring enterprise, and 
who two days after were all made prisoners of war. 

" After all these prodigies of valor, which tended only to weaken 
his forces, the king shut up in Stralsund, which was every moment 
in danger of being stormed, behaved in much the same manner as he 
had done at Bender. Unappalled by so many surrounding dangers, 
he employed the day in making ditches and intrenchments behind the 
walls, and by night he sallied out upon the enemy. Meanwhile 



CHARLES OP SWEDEN. 193 

Stralsund was battered in breach : the bombs fell thick as hail upon 
the houses, and half the town was reduced to ashes. The citizens 
were so far from complaining, that filled with the highest veneration 
for their royal master, whose vigilance,, temperance, and courage, 
they could not sufficiently admire, they were all become soldiers under 
him. They accompanied him in all his sallies, and served him in 
place of a second garrison. - 

" One day as the king was dictating some letters to his secretary 
that were to be sent to Sweden, a bomb fell on the house, pierced 
the roof, and burst near the royal apartment. One half of the floor 
was shattered to pieces ; but the closet in which the king was, being 
partly surrounded by a thick wall, received no damage ; and, what 
was remarkably fortunate, none of the splinters that flew about in 
the air, came in at the closet door, which happened to be open. The 
report of the bomb, and the crashing noise it occasioned in the house 
which seemed ready to tumble about their ears, made the secretary 
drop his pen. — ' What is the reason,' says the king, with great com- 
posure, ' that you do not write ?' The poor secretary could only 
bring out with a faltering voice, ' The bomb, sir.' — Well,' replies the 
king, ' and what has the bomb to do with the letter I am dictating ? 
Go on.' 

" Shortly after, an assault was actually made upon the horn-work. 
Twice did the enemy take it, and twice were they repulsed. In this 
rencounter the king fought amidst his grenadiers ; but at last superior 
numbers prevailed, and the enemy remained masters of the place. 
Charles continued in the town two days after this, expecting every mo- 
ment a general assault. On the 21st of November, he staid till midnight 
upon a little ravelin that was entirely demolished by the bombs and 
cannon. Next day the principal officers conjured him to quit the 
place which he could no longer defend ; but to retreat was now be- 
come as dangerous as to stay. The Baltic was covered with Eussian 
and Danish ships. There were no vessels in the harbor of Stralsund, 
but one small bark with sails and oars. The great danger which ren- 
dered this retreat so glorious, was the very thing that prompted 
Charles to attempt it. He embarked at midnight on the 20th of De- 
cember, 1715, accompanied by ten persons only. They were obliged 
to break the ice with which the water of the harbor was covered ; 
a hard and laborious task, which they were forced to continue for 



194 CHARLES OF SWEDEN. 

several hours before the bark could sail freely. The enemy's admi 
rals had strict orders not to allow Charles to escape from Stralsund, 
but to take him, dead or alive. Happily for him they were under wind 
and could not come near him. He ran a still greater risk in passing ; 
by a place called La Babette, in the Isle of Rugen, where the Danes 
had erected a battery of twelve cannon, from which they fired upon 
him. The mariners spread every sail and plyed every oar in order to 
get clear of the enemy : but two men were killed at the king's side 
by one cannon ball, and ship's mast was shattered by another. 
Through all these dangers, however, did the king escape unhurt, and 
at last came up with two of his own ships that were cruising in the 
Baltic. Next day Stralsund was surrendered, and the garrison made 
prisoners of war. Charles landed at Isted in Scania, and forthwith 
repaired to Carlscroon, in a condition very different from what he 
was in, when, about fifteen years before, he set sail from that har- 
bor in a ship of a hundred and twenty guns, to give laws to the 
North." 

HIS DEATH. 

" In October, 1718, he set out on an expedition to Norway. He 
had taken all his measures with so much prudence and precaution 
that he hoped he should be able, in the space of six months, to make 
himself master of that kingdom. 

" At the mouth of the river Tistendall, near the bay of Denmark, 
and between the towns of Bahus and Ansio, stands Fredericshall, a 
place of great strength and importance, and considered as the key of 
the kingdom : to this town Charles laid siege in the month of Decem- 
ber. The soldiers, benumbed with cold, were hardly able to break 
the ground, which was so much hardened by the frost, that it was 
almost as difficult to pierce it, as if they had been opening trenches 
in a rock. But nothing could resist the resolution and perseverance 
of the Swedes, while they saw their king at their head, and sharing 
in all their labors. Never, indeed, did Charles undergo greater fa- 
tigues. His constitution, strengthened, by eighteen years of severe 
labor, was hardened to such a degree, that he slept in the open field 
in Norway in the midst of winter, covered only with a cloak, and 
without doing the least prejudice to his health. Several of the sol- 



CHARLES OF SWEDSN. 195 

diers on duty dropped down dead with, cold ; and though the rest 
were almost frozen to death, yet as they saw their king partaking in 
all their hardships, they durst not utter a single word of complaint, 
Having heard, a little before this expedition, of a certain woman in 
Scania, called Joan Dotter, who had lived for several months without 
any other nourishment than water ; he, who had all his life studied 
to inure himself 'to the worst extremes that human nature can sup- 
port, resolved to try how long he could fast without fainting. Ac- 
cordingly, he fasted five whole days, without either eating or drink- 
ing; and, on the morning of the sixth, rode two leagues, and then 
alighted at the tent of the prince of Hesse, his brother-in-law, where 
he eat heartily, without feeling the least disorder, either from his 
long fast of five days, or from the plentiful meal which now suc- 
ceeded. 

" With such a body of iron, inspired by a soul alike enterprising 
and inflexible in every condition, he could not fail to be formidable 
to all his neighbors. 

" On the 11th of December, being St. Andrew's day, he went at 
nine in the evening to view the trenches ; and, not finding the par- 
allel so far advanced as he expected, he could not help expressing his 
surprise and displeasure. M. Megret, a French engineer, who con- 
ducted the siege, assured him that the place would be taken in eight 
days. ' Well ! we shall see,' says the king, and went on with the 
engineer to survey the works. He stopped at a plaoe where a 
branch of the trenches formed an angle with the parallel. He kneeled 
on the inner talus, and resting his elbow on the parapet, continued 
for some time to view the men, who were carrying on the trenches 
by star-light." 

" The king stood with almost half of his body exposed to the bat- 
tery of cannon pointed directly against the angle where he was. He 
was attended by two Frenchmen only ; one of whom was M. Siquier, 
his aid-de-camp, a man of courage and conduct, who had entered into 
his service in Turkey, and was particularly attached to the prince of 
Hesse ; the other was this engineer. The cannon fired upon them, 
with grape-shot, to which the king, as he stood behind them, was 
most exposed. A little behind them was count Swerin, who com- 
manded the trenches. While Swerin was giving orders to count 
captain of the guards, and to one Culber, his aid-de-camp, 



196 CHARLES OF SWEDE A. 

Siquier ami Megret, saw the king fall upon the parapet with a deep 
sigh. They ran to him ; but he was already dead. A ball of half a 
pound had struck him in the temple, and made a hole sufficient to 
receive three fingers at once. His head reclined upon the parapet ; 
his left eye beat in, and the right one entirely beat out of the socket. 
Though he expired the moment he received the wound, yet, by a 
kind of instinctive motion, he grasped the hilt of his sword in his 
hand, and still lay in that posture. At the sight of this shocking spec- 
tacle, Megret, a man of a singular turn of mind, and of great indiffer- 
ence of temper, said, ' Come, gentlemen, the farce is ended, let us 
now go to supper.' Siquier ran immediately and informed Count 
Swerin of what had happened. They all agreed to conceal the news 
of his death from the soldiers, till such time as the prince of Hesse 
should be acquainted with it. The body was wrapped up in a gray 
cloak. Siquier put his hat and wig on the king's head; and in this 
condition Charles was carried, under the name of one captain Carls- 
berg, through the midst of his troops, who thus saw their dead king 
pass them, without ever dreaming that it was his majesty. 

" Thus fell Charles XII. King of Sweden, at the age of thirty-six 
years and a half, after having experienced all the grandeur of pros- 
perity, and all the hardships of adversity, without being either soft- 
ened by the one, or the least disturbed by the other. Almost all his 
actions, even those of his private life, border on the marvellous. Per- 
haps he was the only man, most certainly he was the only king, that 
ever lived without failings. He carried all the virtues of the hero to 
such an excess as to render them no less dangerous than the opposite 
views. His resolution, hardened into obstinacy, occasioned his mis- 
fortunes in the Ukraine, and detained him five years in Turkey. His 
liberality, degenerating into profusion, ruined Sweden. His courage, 
pushed the length of temerity, was the cause of his death : and, during 
the last year of his reign, the means employed to support his author- 
ity differed little from tyranny. His great qualities, any one of which 
would have been sufficient to immortalize another prince, proved per- 
nicious to his country. He never was the aggressor; but, in taking 
vengeance on those who had injured him, his resentment got the bet- 
ter of his prudence. He was the first man who ever aspired to 
the title of conqueror, without the least desire of enlarging his do- 
minions. His only end in subduing kingdoms was to have the pleas- 



PRINCE JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 197 

ure in giving them away. His passion for glory, for war, and revenge, 
prevented him from being a good politician ; a quality, without which 
the world had never before seen any one a conqueror. Before a bat- 
tle, and after a victory, he was modest and humble ; and after a de- 
feat firm and undaunted. Severe to himself as well as to others, he 
too little regarded either his own life or labors, or those of his sub- 
jects ; an extraordinary rather than a great man, and more worthy 
to be admired than imitated. Erom the history of his life, however, 
succeeding kings may learn, that a quiet and happy government is 
infinitely preferable to so much glory." 



PRINCE JAMES FREDERICK STUART, 

THE FIRST PRETENDER. 

Prince James, commonly known as the Chevalier de St. George, 
the son of James II., of England, who had been dethroned by Wil- 
liam Prince of Orange, fired with the ambitious hope of wresting the 
throne of his fathers from the House of Hanover, had prevailed upon 
his adherents in Scotland to rise and declare war in his favor. The 
principle Jacobite noblemen, under the Earl of Mar, met at Bracmar 
where they swore fealty to the Prince, and proclamed him James 
III., of England, and VIII., of Scotland. But the attempt was un- 
fortunate. The great want of a competent head in Scotland caused 
the ruin of James' cause before he himself had landed. Two battles 
had been fought in both of which the Earl of Mar had been defeated, 
and in the second contest, at Preston, the most influential of the 
Jacobite noblemen fell into the hands of the government. It was, in 
this gloomy crisis of his affairs, when there scarcely remained the 
faintest hope of success, that this descendant of the Stuarts landed, 
a proscribed adventurer, in the ancient kingdom of his forefathers. 
Having made several vain attempts to obtain a passage from St. 
Malo, and having lurked for several days in the dress of a mariner 
along the coast of Brittany, he at length made good his way to Dun- 
kirk, where he embarked on board a small privateer, ostensibly laden 



198 WILLIAM MAXWELL. 

with brandy, but well armed and manned. After a voyage of seven 
days, he landed on the 22d of December, 1715, at Peterhead. His 
friends hastened to pay their respects to him. His arrival had the 
effect, for a time, of raising their hopes and rekindling the enthusi- 
asm of his zealous partisans. But when the news came that the 
Duke of Argyle was on full march to give them battle, and the small- 
ness of their own numbers were made known, they all grew dis- 
heartened, and, as an only means of safety, it was resolved to re- 
treat into the Highlands, and there carry on a desultory warfare. 
From that moment the chevalier lost all hope in his cause, and gave 
himself up to despondency. 

They commenced their retreat from Perth on the 29th of January, 
marching to Dundee, and from thence to Montrose. On his arrival 
at this seaport town the chevalier was earnestly entreated, by his se- 
cret advisers, to seize the opportunity of there being a French vessel 
in the harbor, and to seek safety in flight. At first, he indignantly 
refused to listen to the proposition, but at length gave a reluctant 
consent, in consequence of being assured, that to remain among his 
followers was only to enhance their danger, and that, for the present, 
his cause was hopeless. Accordingly, on the 4th of March, the day 
fixed upon for the march, the chevalier, attended by only one ser- 
vant, slipped out of his lodgings, and taking a bye-path to the waters' 
edge, sprang into a boat which waited to carry him to the vessel. 

With the flight of the chevalier terminated the insurrection. Under 
the head of Charles Edward, the reader will find an account of the at- 
tempt of his son to accomplish the same end, and with what greater 
promises of success it was attended. 



WILLIAM MAXWELL. 

EARL OP NITHISDALE. 

William, fifth Earl of Nithisdale, was one of the last individuals 
who joined the standard of Prince James Frederick Stuart, the first 
Pretender. He fell into the hands of the government at the sur- 



WILLIAM MAXWELL. 199 

render of the insurgent force at Preston, and having been sent a pris- 
oner to London, was forthwith committed to the Tower. On the 
23d of January, 1716, he was brought to trial for high treason, found 
guilty, and condemned to death Great intercession was made in all 
quarters to save the life of Lord Nithisdale. Every effort, however, 
proved fruitless, and the warrant having been actually signed, Lady 
Nithisdale, at the hazard of her own life, determined, if possible, to 
accomplish by stratagem the escape of her lord. The warrant for his 
execution was signed on the 22d of February, and the terrible sen- 
tence was ordered to be carried into effect on the 24th. Lady Nithis- 
dale, in a letter to her sister, Lady Fraquair, has here left us an ac- 
count of the particulars of the manner by which she accomplished her 
purpose, which, for unaffected simplicity of style, for graphic descrip- 
tion, and as affording a. beautiful illustration of female heroism can 
scarcely be read Avithout exciting deep interest. After recounting 
her ill-success in presenting a petition to the king, she says : — 

" Upon this I formed the resolution to attempt his escape, but 
opened my intentions to nobody but my dear Evans. In order to 
concert measures, I strongly solicited to be permitted to see my lord, 
which they refused to grant me, unless I would remain confined with 
him in the Tower. This I would not submit to, and alleged for ex- 
cuse, that my health would not permit me to undergo the confine- 
ment. The real reason of my refusal was, not to put it out of my 
power to accomplish my design. However, by bribing the guards, 
I often continued to see my' lord till the day upon which the prison- 
ers were condemned; after that, we were allowed, for the last week, 
to see and take our leave of him. 

"By the help of Evans, I had prepared everything necessary to 
disguise my lord, but had the utmost difficulty to prevail upon him 
to make use of them. However, I at length succeeded, by the help 
of Almighty God. 

" On the 22d of February, which fell on k Thursday, our petition 
was to be^presented to the House of Lords ; the purport of which 
was to entreat the lords to intercede with his Majesty to pardon the 
prisoners. The petition was presented, and a question arose whe- 
ther the king had power to pardon those who had been condemned 
by parliament, which was decided on the affirmative. However, 
one of the lords stood up and said, that the house would only inter- 



200 WILLIAM MAXWELL. 

cede for those of the prisoners who should approve themselves worthy 
of their intercession. This salvo quite blasted all my hopes; for I 
was assured it aimed at the exclusion of those who should refuse to 
subscribe to the petition, which was a thing I knew my lord would 
never submit to : nor, in fact, could I wish to preserve his life on such 
terms. 

" As the motion had passed generally, I thought I could draw some 
advantage in favor of my design. Accordingly, I immediately left 
the House of Lords, and hastened to the Tower, where, affecting an 
air of joy and satisfaction, I told all the guards I passed by, that I 
came to bring joyful tidings to the prisoners. I desired them to lay 
aside their fears, for the petition had passed the House in their favor. 
I then gave them some money to drink to the lords and his majesty, 
in the hopes of gaining their good humor and services for the next 
day, which was the eve of the execution. 

" The next morning I could not go to the Tower, having so many 
things in my hands to put in readiness ; but in the evening when all 
was ready, I sent for Mrs. Mills, with whom I lodged, and acquaint- 
ed her with my design of attempting my lord's escape, as there was 
no prospect of his being pardoned ; and this was the last night before 
the execution. I told her that I had everything in readiness, and 
that I trusted she would not refuse to accompany me, that my lord 
might pass for her. I pressed her to come immediately as we had no 
time to lose. At the same time I sent for a Mrs. Morgan, then usual- 
ly known by the name of Hilton, and communicated my resolution to 
her. She was of a very tall and slender make ; so I begged her to 
put under her own riding-hood, one that I had prepared for Mrs. 
Mills, as she was to lend her's to my lord, that, in coming out he 
might be taken for her. Mrs. Mills was nearly of the same size as 
my lord. When we were in the coach I never ceased talking, that 
they might have no leisure to reflect. Their surprise and astonish- 
ment, when I first opened my design to them, had made them con- 
sent, without ever thinking of the consequences. 

" On our arrival at the Tower, the first I introduced was Mrs. Mor- 
gan, for I was only allowed to take in one at a time. She brought 
in the clothes that were to serve Mrs. Mills, when she left her own 
behind her. When Mrs. Morgan had taken off what she had brought 
for my purpose, I conducted her back to the stair case ; and in going, 



"WILLIAM MAXWELL. 201 

I begged her to send me in my maid to dress me ; that I was afraid 
of being too late to present my last petition that night, if she did not 
come immediately. I despatched her safe, and went partly down 
stairs to Mrs. Mills, who had the precaution to hold her handker- 
chief to her face, as was very natural for a woman to do when she 
was going to bid her last farewell to a friend, on the eve of his exe- 
cution. I had, indeed, desired her to do it, that my lord might go 
out in the same manner. Her eyebrows were rather inclined to be 
shaggy, and my lords' were dark and very thick ; however, I had 
prepared some paint of the color of her's, to disguise his hair as her's ; 
and I painted his face with white, and his cheeks with rouge, to hide 
his long beard, which he had not time to shave. All this provision I 
had before left in the Tower. The four guards, whom my slight li- 
berality the day before had endeared me to, let me go quietly with 
my company, and were not so strictly on the watch as they usually 
had been ; and the more, as they were persuaded, from what I had 
told them the day before, that the prisoners would obtain their par- 
don. I had made Mrs. Mills take off her own hood, and put on that 
which I had bought for her. I then took her by the hand, and led 
her out of my lord's chamber ; and in passing through the next room, 
in which there were several people, with all the concern imaginable, 
I said, ' My dear Mrs. Catharine, go in all haste and send me my 
waiting maid ; she certainly cannot reflect how late it is : she forgets 
that I "am to present a petition to night; and if I let slip this oppor- 
tunity, I am undone, for to-morrow will be too late. Hasten her as 
much as possible ; for I shall be on thorns until she comes. Every 
one in the room, who were chiefly the guard's wives and daughters, 
seemed to compassionate me exceedingly ; and.the sentinel officious- 
ly opened the door. When I had seen her out, I returned back to 
my lord, and finished dressing him. I had .taken care that Mrs. 
Mills did not go out crying, as she came in, that my lord might 
better pass for the lady who came in crying and afflicted ; and the 
more so because he had the same dress which she wore. When I 
had finished dressing my lord in all my petticoats, excepting one, I 
perceived it was growing dark, and was afraid that the light of the 
candles might betray us ; so I resolved to set off. I went out lead- 
ing him by the hand, and he held his handkerchief to his eyes. I 
spoke to him in the most afflicted and piteous tone of voice, bewail- 



202 WILLIAM MAXWELL. 

ing bitterly the negligence of Evans, who had ruined me by her de- 
lay. Then said I, My dear Mrs. Betty, for the love of God, run 
quickly and bring her with you. You know my lodgings, and if 
ever you made despatch in your life, do it at present : I am almost 
distracted with this disappointment. The guards opened the doors, 
and I went down stairs with him, still conjuring him to make all 
possible dispatch. As soon as he had cleared the door, I make him 
walk before me, for fear the sentinel should take notice of his back ; 
but I still continued to press him to make all the despatch he possi- 
bly could. At the bottom of the stairs I met my dear Evans, into 
whose hands I confided him. I had before engaged Mrs. Mills to 
be in readiness before the Tower to conduct him to some place of 
safety, in case we succeeded. 

" In the meanwhile, as I had pretended to have sent the young 
lady on a message, I was obliged to return up stairs and go back to 
my lord's room in the same feigned anxiety of being too late ; so that 
everybody seemed sincerely to sympathize with my distress. When 
I was in the room, I talked to him as if he had been really present, 
and answered my own questions in my lord's voice as nearly as I 
could imitate it. I walked up and down as if we were conversing 
together, till I thought they had enough time to clear themselves of 
the guards. I then thought proper to make off also, — I opened the 
door and stood half in it, that those in the outer chamber might hear 
what I said ; but held it so close that they could not look in. I bid 
my lord a formal farewell for that night; and added, that something 
more than usual must have happened to make Evans negligent on 
this important occasion, who had always been so punctual in the 
smallest trifles, that I saw no other remedy than to go in person ; 
that if the Tower were still 6pen when I finished my business I 
would return that night; but that he might be assured that I would 
be with him as early in the morning as I could gain admittance ; and 
I flattered myself that I should bring favorable news. Then, before 
I shut the door, I pulled through the string of the latch so that it 
could only be opened on the inside. I then shut it with some degree 
of force, that I might be sure of its being well shut. I said to the 
servant as I passed by, that he must not carry in candles to his mas- 
ter till my lord sent for him, as he desired to finish some prayers 



CHARLES EDWARD. 203 

fit st. I then went down stairs, and called a coach, and drove home 
to my lodgings." 

They took refuge in the house of a poor woman, and remained con- 
cealed for three days in the little loft in the house. The Earl escaped 
from London to Dover in the livery of a servant, where he wasjoined 
by his devoted lady, and they immediately sailed for Calais, which 
they reached without danger. 



CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER.* 

Charles Edward, the last descendant of the unhappy house of 
Stuart, affords a history, which, for romantic adventure and melan- 
choly interest, can scarcelj5,be^ paralleled. • It is impossible, even at 
this day, for us to peruse his life without being thrilled with admira- 
tion, and subdued with emotions of the keenest pity and sympathy. 
He was the grandson of the unfortunate James II., who had been 
dethroned by William, Prince of Orange, and in the mind of the 
young Stuart, long before he had attained the estate of manhood, his 
desires and hopes centered on the recovering of the lost crown of 
his ancestors. In Rome was spent his youth, but the great city with 
all the charm of her arts, and the grandeur of her antiquities, could 
not call his thoughts away from their favorite subject of meditation. 
He seemed impressed with a presentiment that he should one day 
wear the crown. On a sail from Graeta to Naples his hat fell into the 
sea. The sailors were for pulling about to row after it. " Let it 
alone," said he ; " the waves will carry it to England, and I will some 
day or other go there for it myself." 

His manner was exceedingly graceful and elegant, his face ex- 
pressive with beauty, and his form symmetrical. He, moreover, was 
so very Avinning and fascinating in his address, that he irresistibly 
won the friendship of all who came in contact with him, and enlisted 
their sympathies with his hopes and prospects. When only fourteen, 
he displayed so much cool and heroic valor at the seige of Gaeta, that 

* Compiled from a work by G. W. Greene. 



204 CHARLES EDWARD. 

Marshal Berwick, in a letter to his brother, wrote the following pas- 
sage; "Would to God that the worst enemies of the Stuarts could 
have been witnesses of his conduct during the seige. It Avould have 
won many of them back again." 

At last the long-wished for moment had arrived, for him to embark 
in the undertaking of recovering the throne of his fathers. France 
was on thepointof taking an active part in the war of the Austrian 
succession, and looked to a rising in favor of the exiled family as the 
surest means of finding employment for the English monarch at 
home. Arrangements were easily entered into, whereby Marshal 
Saxe was to lead fifteen thousand men to invade England, while the 
Prince should hasten to Scotland, and gather under his banner the 
numerous friends of his family, in that part of the kingdom. But these 
bright prospects were suddenly overcast. A tempest scattered the 
French and English fleets as they were on the point of engaging, and 
wrecked several of the transports. The French court then relapsed 
into indifference, Marshal Saxe was ordered to Flanders, and Charles 
Edward kept aloof by promises and evasions. Always repugnant 
to the idea of ascending to the sovereignty of his people under the 
escort of foreign bayonets, he now resolved to land on the coast of 
Scotland, gather the Highland clans around him, who still remained 
faithful to his house, and strike a decided blow for the crown. 

He landed, and at first he was met with a chilling reception. "We 
cannot raise a single man unless your royal highness comes attended 
with regular forces" was the inauspicious greeting. But his elo- 
quence, high enthusiasm, and persuasive manner, broke down every 
opposition, and although aware of the almost certain destruction that 
must ensue from the attempt, they at last yielded. A touching inci- 
dent occurred in one of his conferences with the lairds, which has- 
tened their decision. In a group on the deck of his vessel were the 
chiefs of several clans, Clanranold, MacDonald of Kinloch, the lairds 
of G-lenaldale and Dalily, and others. Charles Edward was using all 
his eloquence to move them. 

" I am your prince, your countryman, your friend," said he; " do 
not abandon the son of your king!" In the group on the deck was 
a younger brother of MacDonald of Kinloch, Moidart, who, without 
knowing the full purport of the conversation, had caught enough of 
its meaning to understand how nearly it touched the loyalty of his 



CHARLES EDWARD. 



205 



clan. His eyes lighted up, bis color went and came, and in the 
warmth of his emotions, he grasped the hilt of his claymore with an 
energy that drew the prince's attention. "And you," said he, turn- 
ing to the only one who appeared to feel for his situation, " will you 
not fight for me?" " Yes,' replied the gallant youth, " if I were the 
only one in all Scotland to draw my sword, I would be ready to die 
for you." " I have at last found a defender," cried the prince, burst- 
ing into tears ; " give me but a few more such Scotchmen as this, 
and I am sure of my father's throne." The impulse was irresistible, 
and the chiefs, giving way to their enthusiasm, swore, with one ac- 
cord, to lay down their lives in his cause. 

Immediate measures were taken to raise the clans. Most of them 
at first refused, but in all cases they were won over by the lofty en- 
thusiasm of the youthful prince. He was soon surrounded by a 
small, but enthusiastic army. He determined to strike a decisive 
blow at once. Sir John Cope was already marching against him, but 
seeing the force brought against him, soon retreated. No sooner was 
this word brought to Charles than he exclaimed " To Edinburgh, to 
Edinburgh." 

With rapid marches they bent their steps to this point, the army 
increased each day, and as the flame spread wider, laird after laird 
came at the head of their troops to offer their services. Everywhere 
was the highest enthusiasm. The cause of the young Stuart seemed 
bright indeed. In Edinburgh the Hanoverians were in despair, and 
the Jacobites exulting. As the prince approached the city an attempt 
was made to resist him, but the gates were soon thrown open. Never 
did a prince march through his kingdom surrounded by such enthu- 
siasm and such acclamations. He was dressed in a Highland costume, 
distinguished only by a scarf of azure and gold, and the glittering 
cross of the national order of St. Andrew. His hair fell in ringlets 
from under his simple blue cap, and as he rode along, the youthful 
bloom of his countenance, and the mingled grace and dignity of his 
manners, drew forth a burst of admiration from the assembled mul- 
titude. 

News was soon brought that Sir John Cope was advancing Avith a 
large army. The prince received this news with joy, for the prestige 
of one victory would make his cause still more promising. He sallied 
out to meet the English general, and signally defeated him. Flushed 



206 CHARLES EDWARD. 

with victory he resolved to march at once into England. He did so, 
his own army daily augmented, and terror paralizing the arms of the 
Hanoverians. He had marched into the country without serious 
opposition, and London was within three days reach, when his coun 
cil became terrified and advocated a retreat. A large English army 
was advancing, their retreat would be cut off, they could not stand 
against the odds that would be brought to bear upon them. Their 
only course was to retreat over the borders, and await a more favor- 
able opportunity for invasion. Charles was thunderstruck with this 
opposition, but his council was resolved, and he was compelled to yield. 
Silent, dejected, overcome with a despairing gloom, he retraced his 
steps to Scotland. His friends lost confidence, and his enemies gained 
assurance. His army became dejected, and he was soon surrounded 
by English forces. The moral effect of the retreat was a death-blow 
to his cause. 

Two victories were gained, but they could not retrieve the disas- 
trous effects of the retreat. Bitterly as he had been disappointed, 
Charles Edward resolved to struggle to the last. Still, his confidence 
in his adherents had been shaken, and we shall no more find in him 
that buoyancy of spirit, that frankness of heart, that freshness and 
overflowing of feeling, which enthusiasm inspires, until bitter experi- 
ence comes to check its expansion by the proofs which it brings, in 
far too great abundance, of the selfishness of human motives and the 
insincerity of man's professions. 

But at last his ill-fated army was totally routed on the fields of 
Culloden. The defeat was total, and the officers of the prince gath- 
ered around him and forced him from the field. "Weary, wounded, 
disheartened, he directed his flight towards Gorthleck, a seat of Lord 
Lovat, the chief of the Frazers. "His horse had been shot under him, 
and when he presented himself in the hall, with his garments soiled 
with mire and stained with blood, the vaunted courage of the wily 
old chief seemed to abandon him at the sight, and, instead of receiv- 
ing his prince with words of consolation and respect, he broke out 
into exclamations of despair at the ruin of his house, and the bloody 
fate which awaited his own gray hairs. After a few hours of repose, 
the prince resumed his flight, with only seven companions, part of 
whom he was soon compelled to separate from; for the alarm had 
been spread, and numerous parties, allured by the price that had been 




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S.F.BAKER. 

HOLYKOOD PALACE. 



CHARLES EDWARD. 209 

set upon his head, were searching for him in every direction. Soon, 
the country became so rugged that he could no longer continue his 
way on horseback. The mountains rose on every side wild and 
broken, separated only by deep glens, where torrents, swollen and 
chilled by the rain and snow, were to be forded at every step. A 
straggling sheep-path that he found from time to time was his only 
relief from climbing precipices, and letting himself down the sides of 
worn and slippery crags. In this way, after four days, he reached 
the little village of Grlenbeisdale, in the canton of Moidart, where, but 
a few months before, he had landed so full of confidence and hope, 
Here he received a letter from Lord George Murray, begging him to 
come and put himself at the head of the relics of his army, a little 
over a thousand men, who were assembled at Badenoch, and make 
one effort more. But he was now convinced that nothing could be 
done without the succors of France, which, if they had been with- 
held at a moment when everything seemed to promise success, 
would hardly be ventured after so fatal a reverse. His own pres- 
ence at Versailles seemed to offer the only chance of bringing that 
hesitating and reluctant court to a decision, while the utmost that he 
could hope to accomplish by remaining in Scotland would be to keep 
up for a few weeks longer a destructive partisan warfare, which, even 
if successful, could lead to no decisive results. This reasoning, so 
plausible in itself, was supported by the advice of Clanranald and the 
other chiefs who had joined him; and although, upon a cooler exam- 
ination, there appear many grounds for calling its correctness in 
doubt, yet it can hardly be considered surprising that it should have 
been adopted as the wisest course, at a moment of such deep de- 
pression. Sorrow has its intoxication as well as joy, and few men 
have' received from- nature, or won by education, a texture of mind 
firm enough to justify that inconsiderate condemnation, which is lav- 
ished so freely upon the errors into which despondency sometimes 
leads the wisest and the best. 

" The whole country was now on the alarm ; English cruisers hov- 
ering on the coast, and guarding the passes of the islands, and strong 
bands of soldiers scattered in patrols along the shore and through the 
valleys, following like bloodhounds upon every track, and subjecting 
every nook and corner to the most rigorous examination. Charles 
Edward was not suffered to remain long in tranquility at his little 



210 CHARLES EDWARD. 

asylum of Airsaig. His traces had been discovered, and a party was 
approaching to seize him. His companions fled in different direc 
tions, and he took refuge in a wood. As he was wandering here 
alone, al a loss which way to direct his steps, he met the pilot whom 
he had sent for to the isle of Skye. It was a cheering omen, and 
seemed to say that all had not abandoned him in this hour of need. 
The weather was upon the point of changing, and the heavens were 
lowering with the well-known signs of an approaching tempest. It 
seemed like courting destruction to embark at such a moment upon 
that stormy sea ; but to remain on shore was captivity or death. 
The tempest burst upon them in all its fury. The rain fell in torrents 
upon their unprotected heads. The waves tossed their little barque 
like foam, seeming at times as if they would engulf it in the abysses, 
or dash it in fragments upon the rock-bound coast, where the break- 
ers broke with that hollow, ominous sound which makes the stoutest 
seaman quail. Night came on, and they had no compass to steer by. 
In ten hours, they had run a hundred miles, and at length they land- 
ed on the little island of Benbecula. It was almost a desert. A few 
crabs which they caught among the rocks, and a little barley-meal 
mixed with water, was their only food ; an old cow-house was their 
shelter. Next day they found the cow, and made a better meaL 

" The tempest still continued to rage with unabated violence, and 
it was not till the 29th that they were enabled to embark once more, 
and direct their course towards Lewis Island, where they hoped to 
find a French cruiser. But they had hardly put off when another 
tempest came up, which drove them to the Islet of Glass. Here 
they gave themselves out for shipwrecked merchants, O'Sullivan 
taking the name of St. Clair, and passing the priuce for his son. A 
farmer gave them shelter, and lent his boat to MacLeod, the pilot, to 
go upon the look out as far as Stornoway, the port of Lewis Island, 
which they looked to as the end of their wanderings. He soon senl 
back word to the prince to follow him, but the wind again drove the 
wanderer from his course, and he was compelled to land at Loch 
Seaforth, and continue his journey on foot. The guide missed his 
way, and it was not till the evening of the second day that he reach- 
ed Point Ayrnish, a mile from Stornoway. Here he stopped while 
one of the party went forward to reconnoitre. MacLeod soon joined 
him, not with the cheering tidings that the vessel he bad bopwd to 



CHARLES EDWARD. 211 

find was ready to receive him, but to tell him that the population, 
warned of his approach, were upon the point of rising to repel him 
or make him prisoner, unless he consented to retrace his steps with- 
out delay. Burke was for returning at once. "My good friend," 
said Charles Edward, ' if you are afraid, you will spoil our supper. 
If it is me you are alarmed for, be under no uneasiness, for nobody 
will take me alive ; and woe to the first man that comes near me 
with any such intention! But there is a time for everything, 
and the most important question at this moment, is how to get sup- 
per.' 

" They remained there all that night and started again at daybreak, 
and now a new danger presented itself; for a few hours after they 
had left the shore, four cruisers hove in sight, and they were compel- 
led to take shelter in the little Island of Issurt, where 'they passed 
four days in a hut without a roof. At length they ventured out 
again, creeping under the shore of that long chain of islands which 
are comprised under the general name of Long Island, being supposed 
to have been originally all united in one. The cruisers continued to 
hang upon their track, and pursue them from point to point, so that 
it was only by slipping in between the rocks and islets, where they 
were hidden from view, that they succeeded in escaping. In this 
manner they came back again to Benbecula, closely pursued by an 
English cruiser, which was happily driven off by a sudden squall, 
just as they came to shore. Here, while they lived on shell-fish, 
hiding themselves during the day in a little hut, the entrance of 
which was so low that they were obliged to crawl into it on hands 
and knees, one of the party was sent to invite the old Chief of Clan- 
ranald, who lived on Long Island, to an interview, and another with 
letters to Lochiel and Murray of Broughton, the prince's secretary. 
Clanrarald came in the night, attended by his children's tutor, Mac- 
Donald, or, as he was commonly called, MacEachen, who from that 
time attached himself to the prince's person. The old chief was 
deeply moved to find the son of his sovereign in this miserable lit- 
tle hovel, with his clothes falling off in shreds, and his whole frame 
attenuated by hunger and fatigue. It would have been dangerous 
to both, to have carried him to his own dwelling ; but MacEachen 
was ordered to conduct him to a little country-house at Corodale, a 
valley in the centre of South Uist. After the huts and caverns in 



212 CHARLES EDWARD. 

which he had been living, this seemed to Charles like a palace. Hero 
he remained for several weeks. Nearly all the inhabitants of the 
island were partizans of his family, and none would be likely to be- 
tray him, even if they had known that he was among them. Game 
was plenty, and he amused himself with fishing and shooting, and 
was sometimes not a little surprised to find himself as happy at a 
good shot as he had ever been after a victory. From time to time 
Lady MacDonald sent him the newspapers, bringing him back again 
to the world, which he had lost sight of during his flight. 

" One evening, as his faithful companion, Burke, was preparing for 
supper part of a deer, the fruit of that day's hunt, a young beggar, 
allured by the savory odor, came and seated himself at Charles Ed- 
ward's side, to claim his share in the feast Burke, more attentive 
than his master to the distinctions of etiquette, was upon the point 
of driving him away. ' Remember, my friend,' said the prince, 
1 that the Scripture bids us feed the hungry and clothe the naked. 
Let this man eat, and after he has done, give him a coat to cover 
himself with.' 

•' Never was charity worse bestowed, for the wretch had no sooner 
swallowed his meal, and drawn his new garment around him, than 
he hastened to give information to the agents of government against 
the suspicious stranger, who was thus secreted in the heart of the 
island. Charles Edward was compelled to abandon his quiet asy- 
lum, and trust himself once more to the chances of the winds and 
the waves. For awhile he wandered about from island to island, 
as the danger drew nigh, and returning again when it was passed. 
At last he came back to Benbecula. He had been obliged to sepa- 
rate from O'Sullivan, Burke, and MacLeod ; O'Neil and MacEachen 
were the only ones that he had kept with him, and so closely was 
the net now drawn around him, that it seemed as if nothing short of 
a miracle could save him from the hands of his pursuers. 

" In this extremity, a young girl of about his own age, whose heart 
had been touched by the melancholy tale of his perils, undertook to 
become his guide. Her name was Flora MacDonald. She was 
the daughter of a petty laird of South Hist, who had been dead several 
years, and her mother was now married to another MacDonald of 
the Isle of Skye. Her education had been .that of a simple country- 
girl of good family, but her beauty, and her strong natural sense, ac- 



CHARLES EDWARD. 213 

companied by deep feeling and heart-sprung enthusiasm, had made 
her a favorite of the Clanranalds, and other noble families of the 
neighborhood, in which she was a frequent and welcome visiter. 

" When Flora took this adventurous resolution, she had never seen 
the prince, and knew him only by the songs which recorded his 
early triumphs, and the tales which were whispered from mouth to 
mouth, of his subsequent disasters and dangers. O'lSTiel and Mac- 
Eachen accompanied her to the first interview, for nobody else knew 
the secret of his hiding-place. She found him in a little cavern form- 
ed by a crevice in the rocks, his garments soiled, his cheeks pale, his 
eyes hollow and sunken, his hands covered with a cutaneous disor- 
der, which he had contracted in shifting about among hovels and ca- 
verns, and his whole aspect so care-worn and haggard, that she burst 
into tears at the sight. But his cheerfulness soon dried her tears, 
and the gaiety with which he spoke of his own appearance and situa- 
tion, made her laugh in despite of her melancholy. After staying as 
long as she dared, she gave him a basket of provisions and a change 
of linen, which she had brought for his use, and took her leave, with 
the promise of a speedy return. If before she had seen him, she had 
felt disposed to make an effort in his favor, she was now resolved to 
save him at every hazard. Her mother was at the Isle of Skye, 
which would afford a sufficient pretext for a journey thither ; and as 
she was in the habit of making these little excursions frequently, 
either by herself or with a single attendant, there was every reason 
to hope that this too might pass off without attracting attention. 
The chief difficulty lay in framing a suitable disguise for the prince ; 
for at this moment everybody was closely watched, and there was 
no such thing as travelling in security, without a passport that 
covered the whole party. The habits of the country suggested an 
expedient. Mrs. MacDonald was a thrifty housewife, and would be 
glad to have an able-bodied maid to assist her in her spinning. 
This would be a sufficient reason for introducing another name 
upon the passport, and, the first step made sure, fortune would de- 
cide the rest. The prince was informed of the character that he 
was to assume, and his disguise was prepared. 

" While these preparations were going on, she continued from time 
to time to visit the prince in his cavern, sometimes with Lady Clan- 
ranald, and sometimes with MacEachen, but always at intervals and 



214 CHARLES EDWARD. 

with the utmost precaution, in order to avoid exciting suspicion by 
going too often in the same direction. This was the sole relief that 
Charles Edward enjoyed from the monotony and anxiety of his situa- 
tion ; and when, as sometimes happened, three or four days passed 
away without a visit from Flora, it was with difficulty that he could 
curb his impatience. And well may his impatience be excused, for it 
would be hard to conceive of a situation more trying. The spot in 
which he had taken shelter was rather a crevice in the rocks than 
a cavern. With every shower — and in that climate there are many 
—the water penetrated through the fissures, dropping upon his head, 
and collecting in the folds of the tartan with which he vainly endea- 
vored to protect himself. All that his companion, a hardy islander, 
could do to assist him, was to shake out the water when the folds 
were filled. To complete his sufferings, the flies would gather around 
him in swarms, biting his hands and face so sharply that sometimes, 
with all his self-control, it would wring from him a shriek of agony. 
His food was brought him by a little milk-girl, who also stood on the 
watch to keep him informed of the movements of the soldiery. At 
length, after many a day of anxious expectation, and many a hair- 
breadth escape, the preparations were all completed; and on the 
evening of the 28th of June, after one more narrow escape from a 
party of soldiers that were prowling along the coast, he embarked 
with Flora and MacEachen, in an open boat, for the Isle of Skye. 

" They had hardly been aboard an hour, when the wind began to 
rise, and the sea with it. The oarsmen shook their heads ominously 
as they gazed on the rising billows, for their frail bark was but ill- 
fitted to stand the shock of a tempest. To distract their attention 
from the danger, Charles Edward sang them the songs which he had 
learned around the Highland watch-fires, and rehearsed those wild le- 
gends of the olden time which have such a charm in that land of 
mist and storm. Calm returned with daylight, and after wandering 
for a Avhile at venture, they found themselves near the western point 
of the Isle of Skye. As they were rowing along under the shore, a 
platoon of soldiers suddenly appeared on the rocks and ordered them 
to land. They were within gunshot, and before the boat could be 
put about, the soldiers fired. Flora would not consent to stoop her 
head until the prince did so too, but fortunately, though the balls fell 
all around them, nobody was hurt. 



CHARLES EDWARD. 215 

" At last, they landed at the north end of the island, and Charles Ed- 
ward remained with MacEachen, while Flora went forward to Mac- 
Donald Castle to consult about their future movements. She found 
the castle full of officers and soldiers. It was decided that the prince 
should take refuge in the little Island of Eaasay. Lady MacDonald 
sent Kingsbury, her steward, to attend him and conduct him to his 
own house, where he was to pass the night. Flora rejoined them 
on the road. It was long after nightfall when they reached the 
house, and all the family were abed. Mrs. Kingsbury hastened down 
to receive her husband and guests, and was not a little terrified, upon 
saluting the supposed Betty, to find a rough beard instead of the 
smooth cheek of a woman. ' It is an outlaw, then, that you have 
brought home with you ?' said she to her husband. ' It is the prince 
himself,' replied Kingsbury. 'The prince! alas! then we are all 
undone !' ' We can die but once,' said the faithful islander, ' and 
where could we find a nobler cause to die in? But make haste and 
get some supper for his Boyal Highness ; give us some eggs, and 
butter, and cheese.' ' Eggs, butter, and cheese for a prince's sup- 
per !' cried the good woman in astonishment. 'If you knew what 
kind of suppers he has been eating of late, you would call that a 
feast. Besides, if you were to make any unusual preparation, it 
might excite suspicion; so make haste, and come and take your place 
at table.' ' At table with a prince ?' ' To be sure. He would not 
eat without you, and his gracious manners will soon put you at your 
ease.' The supper was indeed a feast for Charles Edward, and when 
the ladies had retired, he remained at table to keep his host compa- 
ny, as gay, and apparently as unconcerned, as though he had never 
seen a day of sorrow. It was only in his slumbers that he betrayed 
the real state of his mind, and then no selfish complaint, no lament 
for his own sufferings, was ever heard to escape him ; but ' Alas, my 
poor Scotland !' was the exclamation that broke from his lips. 

" Next morning he was again on his way ; but not till after a hearty 
breakfast, and after leaving a lock of his hair for Flora and his host- 
ess, which, with the worn-out shoes that he had exchanged for a new 
pair of Kingsbury's, and the sheets in which he had slept, were care- 
fully treasured up as precious relics of those days of trial. A circui- 
tous route brought them down to the shore, where he was to embark 
for Eaasay. The blood gushed from his nostrils in a copious stream 



216 CHARLES EDWARD. 

as he bade adieu to Kingsbury and to the noble-hearted Flora, who 
were soon to atone by a long captivity for this act of self-devotion. 

" Malcolm MacLeod, a cousin of the laird of Kaasay, and who had 
served in the prince's army as a captain, now became his guide, and 
with him, after passing several days in a little hut on the island, he 
again returned through another tempest to the Isle of Skye, and 
roamed for a while among the mountains, till his provisions were all 
exhausted. In this extremity, Malcolm resolved to carry him to the 
house of his sister, who had married the laird of MacKinnon. His 
brother-in-law was absent, but his sister received him with open arms, 
and went out herself to keep watch, while her guests reposed with- 
in. The old nurse came to wash Malcolm's feet, and when she had 
done, he asked her to wash the prince's, who passed for his servant. 
1 1 have washed the feet of your father's son,' said she ; ' but whj 
should I wash the feet of his father's son ?' ' But my good mother,' 
replied Malcolm, ' It will be an act of Christian charity. He, too, ia 
weary as well as I.' 'And a great deal dirtier too;' which was 
true, for the prince had fallen into a quagmire, and was covered with 
mud. However, the old woman complied, though not without mur- 
muring, and when she came to wipe his legs, she handled the towel 
so roughly as to extort a slight expression of suffering from her pa- 
tient. 'In sooth,' cried she with great indignation, 'it well be- 
comes your father's son to complain of my father's daughter ?' 

" The wanderers slept a few hours. Charles Edward was the first 
to wake, and, seeing the little boy of his hostess near him, took the 
child upon his knees and begin to sing to him. While he was thus 
engaged, Malcolm came in with the nurse, not a little surprised to 
see how he was occupied. 'Who knows,' said the prince, 'but 
that this boy may some day or other become a captain in my 
service?' 'Say, rather,' cried the indignant old woman, 'that you 
may perhaps get to be a sergeant in his company.' Mrs MacKinnon 
now came to announce her husband's return, and Malcolm went out 
to meet him, ' What would you do,' said he to his brother-in-law, 
' if the prince were to come to you for an asylum ?' ' I would give 
my life to save him.' 'Come, then, for he waits you at your 
house.' 

"Despairing of meeting a vessel among the islands, which, more- 
over, could no longer be relied on as a shelter, Charles Edward re- 



CHARLES EDWARD. 217 

solved to return to the main land. MacKinnon furnished him with 
a boat, and, bidding adieu to Malcolm, he embarked in the height of 
a gale, and under the guns of two cruisers, confidently assuring his 
companions that the weather would quickly change, and deliver him 
both from the tempest and his enemies. Months of peril and daily 
familiarity with danger had given him a confidence in his good for- 
tune, which could not easily be shaken. His prediction was verified. 
The horizon cleared, and a sudden change in the wind drove the 
bruisers off the coast. In embarking for Eaasay, Charles Edward had 
quitted his disguise for the dress of an islander, and this he now ex- 
changed for the costume of a mountaineer. The passage was quick, 
and the MacKinnons moored their little boat at the southern extre- 
mity of Loch Nevis. The first three nights they slept in the open 
air, the fourth in a cavern, and then wandered from one to another 
of the miserable little huts, which the inhabitants had hastily erected 
upon the ruins of their houses ; for the vengeance of the Hanoveri- 
ans had swept .over the country, and blood and ashes were the re- 
cords it had left behind. In this way the MacKinnons brought him 
in safety to the lands of MacDonald of Boisdale. ' We have per- 
formed our duty,' said they, 'to the son of our king; it is now 
your turn.' ' And I am happy to have the opportunity,' was the 
noble reply. 

" Great as Charles' sufferings and privations had been, the hardest 
were yet to come. The passes of the mountains had been occupied 
by two corps of troops, of five hundred men each, who, like skilful 
hunters, were every day drawing closer and closer the circle which 
they had formed around their prey. After three days, which he 
passed in a cave, he was joined by his new guide, MacDonald of 
Clenaladale, and began his life of wanderings once more. Some- 
times a glass of milk was his only food for twenty-four hours, and 
then again two whole days would pass before he could find even 
that. His pursuers were so close upon him, that the fight of their 
watchfires was often his only guide in escaping them, and more than 
once he had cause to bless the tempest and the mist, which came to 
screen him when every other shelter had failed. Once he forgot his 
purse, and while Clenaladale went back to look for it, a party of sol- 
diers passed directly under the rock behind which the prince was 
secreted. Another time, after walking all night, he came out upon a 



218 CHARLES EDWARD. 

point from where he could see the kind of chase, in which the sol- 
diers pursued the mountaineers, driving them before them and keep- 
ing up a constant fire with their muskets, as if the poor wretches had 
been beasts of prey enveloped in the toils. He laid his hand upon his 
sword, and would have rushed forward to their defence, if his com- 
panions had not forcibly prevented him from this rash exposure of 
his person. Yielding reluctantly to their remonstrances, he continu- 
ed his march all day, and at night took shelter in a crevice among 
the rocks, so narrow that he could not lie clown in it, and so exposed 
that the wind and rain came in on every side. At first, his compan- 
ions tried to kindle a fire, but found it impossible. ' Never mind,' 
said he, ' let us content ourselves with the sparks.' 

" The next day brought them to the canton of the ' seven men of 
Grlenmoriston,' a band of outlaws, who had taken refuge among the 
wildest passes of the mountains, every foot of which they were fa- 
miliar with, and where they lived at the sword's point, setting the 
English at defiance, while all the rest of the country, was a prey to 
the outrages of the soldiery. It was from these men that Charles 
Edward resolved to ask shelter. Glenaladale went forward to treat 
with them, hoping to pass off the prince for Clanranald. 'Clanra- 
nald is welcome,' said they ; but no sooner did they see the pretend- 
ed chieftain, than one of them hastened forward, crying aloud, with a 
significant air, — ' you are come, then, at last, Dougal Maccolony ?' 
He had recognized the prince under his coarse tartan, all soiled and 
ragged as he was, and Charles Edward perceiving his intention, an- 
swered readily to the name. The chief now proposed the robber's 
oath : — ' May we turn our backs to God and our faces to the Devil, 
may all the curses of the Bible fall upon us and our children, if ever 
we betray those who confide in us.' When it came to the prince's 
turn, they told him that an oath from him was needless, for they 
knew who he was, and falling on their knees, swore to stand by him 
to the last drop of their blood. 

" To procure him a change of linen, they waylaid an English officer ; 
to supply his table, they laid the sheepcots of the surrounding coun- 
try under contribution ; and, hearing him express a wish for a news- 
paper, one of them ventured into Fort Augustus in disguise, and 
brought away the papers of the commander. Sometimes Charles 
Edward would reprove them for their profanity, and they listened 



CHARLES EDWARD. 219 

respectfully to his rebukes ; for, wherever he went, he was sure to 
win the affections of his companions, and when, in after years, those 
iron-hearted men told the story of his sojourn among them, it was 
always with a tremulous voice and eyes dimmed with tears. 
"After three weeks of this wild life, he joined the Camerons in the 
little hut where Lochiel had taken refuge. Glenaladale was des- 
patched tothe coast, to try if he could hear tidings of a vessel. In a 
few days the prince was obliged to flee again to another shelter, 
which he now found in a cavern among the rocks of Letternilich, 
called the Cage, so high in the air and of a form so peculiar, that it 
looks as if a giant's hand had suspended it there. Here he remained 
eleven days, from the 2d to the 13th of September, when Glenaladale 
came back with the joyful tidings that two French ships of war had 
cast anchor in Lochnanaugh bay. The five months of wandering and 
peril were at length at a close. 

"On the 19th of September, Charles Edward descended to the shore, 
attended by Lochiel and his brother, and a numerous train of their 
friends and adherents, who preferred exile in a foreign land, to the 
persecution which awaited them at home. A large crowd, brothers, 
sisters, and friends, were gathered on the beach to bid them an adieu, 
which, whatever might be the caprices of fortunes, must for so many 
of them be the last. A gleam of hope seemed to light up their de- 
jected countenances, when the prince spoke to them of happy days 
yet in store, and drawing his sword, promised that he would again 
come back to them, with a more powerful army and for a surer tri- 
umph. But when they looked upon his haggard features, and tatter- 
ed garments, and saw in the melancholy train of exiles that surround- 
ed him, the bravest and most beloved of their chiefs, their hearts sank 
within them, and their farewell was uttered in sighs and tears. 

" Another danger awaited the prince on the coast of France, from an 
English fleet which was cruising there, and which he was fortunate 
enough to pass through under cover of a fog. At length, on the 10th 
of October, after a tedious and anxious passage of twenty days, he 
landed at Roscoff, near Morlaix, on the coast of Brittany. The mo- 
ment that his arrival became known, the noblemen of the province 
hastened to bid him welcome, vieing Avith each other in supplying his 
wants and those of his companions. After two days' repose, he set 
out for Paris, whither he had already despatched one of his attendants 
10 



220 CHARLES EDWARD. 

with letters to his brother, the Duke of York, who came out to meet 
him and accompany him to the castle of St. Antoine, which had been 
fitted up for his reception by order of the court. This time, the king 
could not refuse to admit him to his presence ; and accordingly, a few 
days after his arrivel at Paris, he proceeded with a splendid train to 
Fontainebleau, where the court was then residing, in order to receive 
his audience. The story of his gallantry and his romantic adventures 
had excited a strong interest in the Parisian circles, and he was every- 
where received with the most unequivocal marks of enthusiasm and 
sympathy. But the ministry still continued to meet all his propo- 
sals with doubts and objections, and he was not long in perceiving 
that there was nothing to hope from a government frivolously false, 
and a court sunk in debauchery. He went to Madrid, and was equal- 
ly unsuccessful. Soon after his return, the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle 
was signed, and he was driven from his asylum in France, under cir 
cumstances of the utmost indignity and humiliation. Avignon, which 
was then under the dominion of the church, proved an insecure refuge, 
and Venice refused to receive him. 

" All at once he disappeared from the world ; all traces of him were 
lost, his letters were without date, and nobody knew whither he had 
gone. Meanwhile, his partisans in London were preparing for a new 
outbreak, and, could their reports be trusted, everything was ripe for 
a revolution. All of a sudden he appeared in the midst of them, at a 
large assembly which had been called in London, in order to receive 
some important communications from France. 'Here lam,' said 
he, 'ready to raise my banner; give me four thousand men, and I 
will instantly put myself at their head.' This was a test for which 
the conspirators were not prepared ; and, after passing a few days 
in London, he returned to the continent. 

"The remainder of his life is a melancholy tissue of public and pri- 
vate sorrows ; of disappointed hopes, unrequited affection, trust mis- 
placed, and confidence betrayed, and a mind so bruised and saddened 
by its struggles with the world, that self-oblivion became its sole re- 
lief. We know of nothing more melancholy than the contrast which 
the following little sketch, which we translate from the autobiogra- 
phy of Domenico Corzi, offers with the scenes that we have attempt- 
ed to trace the first pages of the present paper." 

" I lived two years," says he, " with the Prince Charles Edward. 



FREDERIC THE GREAT. 221 

All this time he led a very retired life, and saw nobody. It was un- 
der the last Pope, who had refused to acknowledge his title. In this 
retirement, he passed the greater part of his time in practising music, 
of which he was enthusiastically fond. I passed the evenings with 
him ; he played the violoncello, and I the harp, and we used to com- 
pose little pieces together. But these tete-a-tete were far from being 
cheerful. The apartment was hung with old red damask, and lighted 
by only two tapers. Upon the table was a brace of pistols, instru- 
ments very little to my taste, which he would take up from time to 
time to examine, and then lay them down again. His manners, how- 
ever, were always mild, affable, and agreeable." 

"In this manner he passed the last years of his life, dividing his time 
between Rome and Florence, sometimes mixing in society, and at 
others living in absolute seclusion, but preserving to the end so grate- 
ful a remembrance of the fidelity, of which he had received such 
striking proofs in Scotland, that a Scottish song or an allusion to 
those scenes, would called forth his tears, and often threw him into 
fits. And thus he sank by a gradual though a premature decay, till 
at length, abandoned by the world and forgotten of all, save a few 
devoted followers whose truth held out to the last, he expired at 
Rome, on the 31st of January, 1788." 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF FREDERIC THE 
GREAT. 

" Happy as a Prince" is not only a very common saying, but a be- 
lief in its truism is a very common fallacy. The history of most 
princes might expose the fallacy to a degree, but that of the youthful 
career of Frederic the Second, of Prussia, proves how thoroughly 
and miserably unhappy the life of a prince can be. He was born at 
Berlin on the 24th of January, 1712. His father, Frederic the First, 
early began to show a dislike to him. The cause of this antipathy 
is not exactly known. It was probably produced, however, by a 
dissimilarity of pursuits. Young Frederic when a boy, was very 



222 FREDERIC THE GREAT. 

fond of fine clothes, had a passion for French literature and music, 
which caused his father to say of him contemptuously, that he was 
nothing but a coxcomb, who would ruin all he had done for him. 
But his love for fine clothes did not last long, and he afterwards 
went to the other extreme. He was described as a most amiable 
prince, handsome and well made, with an intellect superior to his 
age. 

His great passion for music caused him to devise every possible 
means to pursue the study of it in secrecy. But whenever these 
pursuits were discovered, his father would heap upon him every kind 
of abuse. Nothing could equal the violent disposition of his father, 
which was aggravated by an attack of gout. He made the lives of 
all about him excessively unhappy. The Princess, Frederic's sister, 
in her memoirs, thus speaks : 

" The pains of purgatory could not equal those that we endured. 
We were obliged to appear at nine o'clock in the morning in his 
room : we dined there, and did not dare to leave it even for a mo- 
ment. Every day was passed by the king in invectives against my 
brother and myself. He no longer called me anything but ' the En- 
glish blackguard,' and my brother was named ' the rascal Fritz.' He 
obliged us to eat and drink the things for which we had an aversion, 
or which were bad for our healths, which caused us sometimes to 
bring up in his presence all that was in our stomachs. Every day 
was marked by some sinister event ; and it was impossible to raise 
one's eyes, without seeing some unhappy people tormented in one 
way or other. The king's restlessness did not suffer him to remain 
in bed ; he had himself placed in a chair on rollers, and was thus 
dragged all over the palace : his two arms rested upon crutches, which 
supported them. We always followed this triumphal car, like un- 
happy captives who aro about to undergo their sentence. 

" He sent us away one morning, when we entered to pay our court 
to him. ' Get along,' said he, in a violent manner, to the queen, 
'with all your accursed children: I wish to be alone.' The queen 
endeavored to reply, but he obliged her to be silent, and ordered the 
dinner to be served in her room. The queen was uneasy at this, 
and my brother and myself were charmed, for we were become as 
lean as hack-horses, from mere want of food." 

In another place she says: — "The king almost caused my brother 



FREDERIC THE GREAT. 223 

and myself to die of hunger. He always acted as carver, and served 
everybody except us ; and when by chance there remained anything 
in a dish, he spit into it, in order to prevent our eating of it. We 
lived entirely upon coffee and milk, and dried cherries, which quite 
ruined my digestion. In return, I was nourished with insults and 
invectives, for I was abused all day long, in every possible manner, 
and before everybody. The king's anger went so far against my 
brother and myself, that he drove us from him, forbidding us to ap- 
pear in his presence, except at meals." 

" As for Frederic, he was treated every day with additional harsh- 
ness. ' The king never now saw my brother,' continues the princess, 
' without threatening him with his cane. The latter told him con- 
stantly, he would bear anything from the king except blows, but that 
if he ever came to such extremities with him, he would regain his 
freedom by flight.' Such a state of things as this could never long 
continue, with a father so completely the slave of his own passions, 
and a son who was determined not to bear the effects of them be- 
yond a certain point. Accordingly, we find that, towards the close 
of this year, the event anticipated by Frederic with so much dread 
had taken place, which was communicated by him to his mother in 
the following note. ' I am in the deepest despair : what I had al- 
ways so much dreaded has at length happened to me. The king has 
entirely forgotten that I am his son, and has treated me like the low- 
est of mankind. I entered his bed-chamber this morning as usual ; 
as soon as he saw me he seized me by the collar, at the same time 
striking me with his cane in the most cruel manner possible. I tried 
in vain to defend myself: he was in so terrible a fury, that he was 
not the least master of himself, and it was only from mere lassitude 
that he at last concluded. My patience is at length worn out. I 
have too high a sense of honor to endure such treatment ; and I am 
resolved to put an end to it in one way or other.' 

" Driven to despair by such severities, Frederic determined to make 
his escape, and take refuge in England. 

"In February, 1730, Frederic William went to Dresden to confer 
with the King of Poland, and took the youns? Frederic with him. 
who resolved to take this opportunity of making his escape ; but 
having confided his plan to his sister, he was dissuaded by her en- 
treaties and tears from putting it into effect. Accordingly he return- 



224 FREDERIC THE GREAT. 

ed with the king to Potsdam, where shortly afterward took place a 
more terrific scene between the father and son than had as yet oc- 
curred, which is thus related by Frederic himself to his sister : — ' As 
I entered,' says he, ' the king's room this morning, he first seized me 
by the hair, and then threw me on the ground, along which, after 
having exercised the vigor of his arm upon my unhappy person, he 
dragged me in spite of all my resistance to a neighboring window ; 
his intention apparently was to perform the office of the mutes of the 
seraglio, for seizing the cord belonging to the curtain, he placed it 
round my neck. I had, fortunately for myself, had the time to place 
myself upon my legs, and I seized hold of both his hands and began 
to cry out. A servant came immediately to my assistance, and de- 
livered me from his hands.' He then adds, ' I am daily exposed to 
similar dangers, and my miseries are so excessive and so desperate 
that it is only violent remedies which can put an end to them.' 
Again Frederic formed apian of evasion, and again he was dissuaded 
from it by his sister. 

" But continued indignities confirmed him in the resolve to escape 
from his thraldom. An opportunity soon occurred. His father was 
going on a journey to Anspach, and took young Frederic with him. 
The young prince's plans for escape were all formed, but unfortunate- 
ly a letter to one of his accomplices was discovered by the king. His 
father determined to apprehend him in the act. They slept at a small 
village on their route, Frederic and his suite occupying a barn. He 
expected to meet horses to aid his escape, but his letter appointing 
the place did not reach its destination. At midnight Frederic left his 
bed, as he imagined, unperceived, but in fact watched by his valet-de- 
chambre, who was a spy of the king's, and who immediately upon 
his departure gave the alarm. He proceeded to a tree in the fields, 
where he expected to find his horses, which were to convey him 
across the Saxon frontier. The horses were purposely delayed for 
some time by the Prussian patroles, and then allowed to proceed to 
their destination ; and the whole was so contrived, that at the mo- 
ment the horses arrived, and as Frederic was going to mount, the 
patroles made their appearance. On seeing them the prince hid his 
face in his hands, and allowed himself to be taken and led back to the 
village without saying a single word. 

" When Frederic was brought into the king's presence he flew at 



FREDERIC THE GREAT. 225 

him, and tried to strangle him. He was with difficulty prevented by 
the General Valdo from executing his purpose ; nor was he separated 
from his son, till he had torn some handfuls of his hair out by the 
roots. He also struck him on the face with the head of his cane so 
violently that the blood gushed from his nose, upon which Frederic 
cried out, in all the bitterness of despair, ' The face of one of the 
House of Brandenburgh never suffered such an insult before.' The 
king then gave orders to general Valdo and Colonel Rocho to watch 
the motions of Frederic; and told them that their heads should an- 
swer for it, if the prince was not securely kept. From this moment 
Frederic was treated as a state criminal; his sword was taken from 
him, and all his effects were seized by the king's order ; fortunately 
for him, one of his servants had the presence of mind to burn his pa- 
pers. 

" Frederic was now confined and suffered greatly in prison. The 
king had resolved upon the death of his son, and ordered him brought 
to trial. But the interference of the Emperor of G-ermany saved the 
young princes' life. But Katt the friend of Frederic who had assisted 
in his attempted escape, was brought to trial and condemned to death 
To show the utter cruelty of Frederic William, young Frederic was 
brought to the place of execution and compelled to witness the death 
of his friend." 

On the 31st of May, 1740, Frederic "William died, and Frederic 
the Second ascended the throne. Then commenced the reign of one 
of the greatest kings, greatest in its largest sense, the history of 
Europe has yet afforded. We cannot follow him through his brilliant 
career, for it would take a large volume to do him anything like jus- 
tice. We subjoin a few incidents that are recorded of him. His af- 
fectionate familiarity with his soldiers is often spoken of. Here are a 
few evidences of it : 

" During one of his campaigns, the bread supplied to the army was 
exceedingly bad ; and the soldiers complained loudly of it. Frederic 
took an opportunity when the soldiers were round him of asking his 
neighbor for a piece of the bread. He ate it before him with appa- 
rent appetite, and then said, aloud, ' In truth, this bread is not very 
good : however, one can eat it when one is hungry. I will take care, 
as soon as possible, that we have better : until then, let us make a 
virtue of necessity.' 



226 FREDERIC THE GREAT. 

" One morning, after a night-march, the army halted: the king got 
off his horse close to a group of his guards, and said aloud, as he was 
getting off, ' It would be agreeable if we had something good to 
drink here.' At these words, several soldiers of the guards, who had 
a piece of bread and a small quantity of brandy, pressed forward, and 
offered their little provision to their sovereign. Frederic was much 
touched at this conduct, and said to them, ' My children, if I could 
drink brandy, I would accept with much pleasure that which you 
offer me. I thank you for this mark of your attachment, which I will 
not forget' He then turned to his attendants and added, ' There is 
not a happier king than me on the face of the earth.' He ordered 
the names of the soldiers to be taken down, and distributed a Fre- 
deric-d'or a piece to them. 

" Upon the occasion of a long and fatiguing march, Frederic ob- 
served an old non-commissioned officer, belonging to the regiment of 
the JBrince of Brunswick, who seemed to have great difficulty in 
keeping up with the regiment. 'What is the matter with you!' said 
the king. — ' I am old and feeble,' answered the sergeant, ' and I find I 
can hardly manage to march with the rest' — ' How long have you 
served ?' — ' Forty-five years ; I served under the late king your father, 
and I have followed your majesty in the wars of Silesia.' — ' Well, 
when we are in winter-quarters, you shall be invalided, and I will 
give you besides a good place.' — ' No, sire, I thank you ; but that 1 
should consider a disgrace : I wish to live and die a soldier.' — ' You 
are wrong, for in that case you might live quietly, and take care of 
yourself in your old age.' — ' Ah, sire, I am not used to that ; and then 
how could I fulfil the duties of any place, having never learned to 
write !' Here the conversation concluded ; and the veteran imagined 
the king would think no more of him. But that very evening Fre- 
deric sent him one of his horses to ride during the march ; and the 
next winter he appointed him a first lieutenant in a garrison regi- 
ment 

" Sometimes he mingled with his familiarity to his soldiers a degree 
of good humored pleasantry, which was peculiarly attaching. During 
the seven years' war, immediately previous to the battle of Lissa. a 
grenadier, a Frenchman, was brought before him, who had been taken 
in the act of deserting. ' Grenadier,' said the king to him, ' why did 
you wish to quit us.' — ' Because, sire, our t <Fairs go on so ill.' — ' WelL' 



FREDERIC THE GREAT. 227 

replied Frederic, ' I allow they do not go on very well ; but, • my 
friend, just let us fight one more battle ; and if, after that, our affairs 
do not go on better, why, we will desert togther.' — ' Agreed, sire ; I 
consent to that,' replied the soldier; who retired without any more 
thoughts or desire of quitting the Prussian service. 

" On the evening of the day of the successful combat at Burkersdorf, 
during the seven years' war, Frederic was riding, accompanied by the 
Bussian General Czernichief, when they met a wounded soldier. 
1 What is the matter?' said the king. — 'Nothing,' replied the soldier; 
' for the enemies fly, and we are conquerors.' But the king, then 
perceiving he was wounded, gave him his handkerchief, saying at the 
same, ' You are wounded, my friend, take this handkerchief, and bind 
up your wound with it' Upon this Czernichief remarked, 'Sire, it is 
not wonderful that your soldiers should serve you with such devo- 
tion, since you treat them with so much kindness.' 

"Anecdotes upon this subject might be multiplied so as to be tedi- 
ous ; but there is one which ought not to be ommitted, both on ac- 
count of its affording a very striking example of the familiarity which 
existed between Frederic and his soldiers, as well as of the dangers 
to which that sovereign exposed his person. One evening after a 
great battle, Frederic approached a fire, which had been lighted by 
some of the grenadiers of his own regiment. The soldiers began to 
ask him where he had been during the battle ; ' Generally,' said they, 
' you lead us yourself where the fire is the hottest ; but this time, no- 
body saw you, and it is not right to abandon us so.' The king, in 
a good-humored manner, explained to them in what part of the field 
he had been, and his reasons for being there, which had prevented 
him from being at the head of his own regiment. As he began to 
grow warm, he unbuttoned his great coat, and a ball dropped out, 
which he had received in his clothes. The hole the ball had made in 
the great-coat and coat was also perceptible. Upon this, the enthu- 
siasm of the soldiers knew no bounds. They cried out, with all the 
tenderness of expression belonging in the German tongue to the sin- 
gular pronoun, ' You are our own good old Fritz ; you share in all 
our dangers with us ; we will all die for you !' And the conversa- 
tion concluded with their cheers, and their entreaties to the king to 
take more care of his own safety. 

''The cool and determined courage of Frederic on the day of bat- 



228 CAPTAIN COOK. 

tie, has, indeed, never been called in question, in spite of his unfaror- 
able commencement of the battle of Mollwitz. Many anecdotes are 
told in proof of his great bravery, with regard to his own person; 
some of which belong to the relation of particular battles. Among those 
which are not so appropriated there is one which deserves relation from 
the authenticity of its source, as it was related by General Muller, to 
whom it happened. Muller, being an aid-de-camp to one of the Prussian 
generals, was sent, during a battle, with orders from one part of the 
field to another. As he was galloping along, he met an officer, who 
stopped him, and whom he then recognized to be the king. Frederic 
began asking him questions, when a shell fell between their two 
horses. Frederic continued his conversation in the coolest manner, 
regarding the shell attentively with the glass, and not attending to 
the impatience of Muller to avoid its probable effects. At length it 
exploded, but, fortunately, Avithout hurting either of them ; and the 
king, having obtained the information he wanted, allowed Muller to 
proceed." 



CAPTAIN COOK. 

" Voyages of discovery have now become rare ; every sea on the 
earth's surface has been explored by adventurous British navigators, 
save those'which are closed against enterprise, by barriers of ever- 
lasting ice. But at the accession of George III. little was known of 
those multitude of islands which stud the Pacific Ocean between the 
continents of Asia and America : and still less of those vast lands in 
the Southern Seas, where now are flourishing colonies, destined, in 
the course of ages, to form new empires. The life of the great navi- 
gator, who may be said to have first directed the attention of the 
British nation to regions daily growing in national importance, is one 
of great historic value. But it also possesses an interest of its own ; 
for it shows that industry, integrity, and intelligence oan open the 
way to fame and fortune, in spite of the disadvantages of humble 
birth, moderate means, and even a deficiency of early education. 

" James Cook, the greatest of modern marine discoverers, was born 



CAPTAIN COOK. 229 

October 27th, 1728, at the village of Marton, near Stockton-upon- 
Tees, in the North Biding of Yorkshire. His parents were humble 
farm-servants, but they bore a high character for probity, and they 
were enabled to have their son apprenticed to a haberdasher, in the 
village of Staith, at the age of thirteen. A passion for naval life is so 
generally felt by boys on the English coast, that it is not surprising 
to find Cook soon growing weary of the shop, and earnestly solicit- 
ing to be sent to sea. His parents gratified his inclination : he was 
bound to a ship-owner at Whitby, and, in the course of time, became 
mate of a vessel employed in the coal- trade, that best of schools for 
practical seamanship. He employed his leisure in acquiring a knowl- 
of marine surveying, and was early enabled to correct many errors in 
the defective charts then commonly in use. In this pursuit, he must 
have been to a great extent self-taught, for he could have derived 
little aid from the limited instruction given at a village school. 

" When war was declared between England and France, in 1755, 
Cook volunteered to serve on board the Eagle frigate, commanded by 
Captain, afterwards Sir Hugh Palliser, and soon attracted the atten- 
tion of the officers by his diligence, activity, and skill in seamanship. 
In May, 1759, he was promoted to be master of the Mercury, a ship 
which bore a part in the celebrated expedition against Quebec. Be- 
fore the English forces could venture on any attempt to effect a land- 
ing, it was necessary to take accurate soundings of the river St. Law- 
rence, in front of the French camp. Captain Palliser recommended 
that Cook should be employed on this arduous service, which he 
performed with such sagacity and resolution, that he was intrusted 
with the charge of surveying the course of the river below Quebec. 
The accurate chart Avhich he prepared gave general satisfaction ; he 
was promoted to the Northumberland, where he erupted all the 
leisure that the duties of the ship afforded him, in the study of mathe- 
matics. When Sir Hugh Palhser was appointed Governor of New- 
foundland, Cook was found qualified for the important office of Ma- 
rine Surveyor of Newfoundland and Labrador. He held the office 
nearly four years, and the charts which he constructed of these coasts 
continue to be used at the present day. While he was engaged in 
this service, he had an opportunity of observing a remarkable eclipse 
of the sun: he transmitted the results of his observations to the ad- 



230 CAPTAIN COOK. 

miralty, and their scientific accuracy excited the attention and admi- 
ration of the astronomers of the day. 

" In 1767, the Council of the Royal Society represented to govern- 
ment, that it would be of great importance to astronomical and geo- 
graphical science, if astronomers were sent to some part of the South 
Pacific Ocean, to observe the transit of the planet Venus over the 
sun's disk. The recommendation was favorably received, and the 
Endeavor, a ship of three hundred and seventy tons, was equipped 
for the purpose. As the urgent instances of the secretary of the ad- 
miralty, Cook, having been raised to the rank of lieutenant, was ap- 
pointed to the command ; he sailed from Plymouth, August 23d, 1768, 
accompanied by Mr. Green, as astronomer, and Sir Joseph Banks, as 
naturalist. Having passed round Cape Horn, the Endeavor reached 
the island of Otaheite, or, as it is now called, Tahiti, April 11th, 1769, 
which had been only once before visited by Europeans. As it was 
necessary to remain some time on the island, Cook used every pre- 
caution to keep on good terms with the natives ; he would receive 
no articles from them, except in fair traffic or barter ; he prohibited 
the use of deadly weapons when any accidental differences arose, and 
he restrained the curiosity of his companions, when its indulgence 
was likely to lend to any collision. These judicious measures had 
the desired effect; the natives of Tahiti had no serious difference 
with their visitors during their stay. It was reserved for our day to 
find those peaceful islanders plundered and butchered by French ad- 
venturers, in the name of Christianity and civilization. The transit 
of Venus was satisfactorily observed, June 3d ; and on the 13th of 
July, the Endeavor resumed her voyage, pursuant to Cook's instruc- 
tions, which were to prosecute maritime discovery in the Southern 
Ocean, after the astronomical purposes of the exhibition had been 
fulfilled. 

" Having spent a month in the examination of the Society Islands, 
which had not been previously explored, he proceeded to search for 
the great southern continent, which was then generally, but errone- 
ously, supposed to form a counterpoise to the extensive continents in 
the Northern Hemisphere. On the 6th of October, he came in sight 
of New Zealand, which had not been visited by Europeans since it 
was first discovered by Tasman, in 1642. Several months were de- 
voted to the examination of this unknown region ; Cook was the 



CAPTAIN COOK. 231 

first who discovered that it consisted of two large islands, separated 
by a strait, which now bears his name. From New Zealand, he 
steered to the still more important island of New Holland, the largest 
in the world, and that which presents the most perplexing problems 
to the geographer, the geologist, and the naturalist. 

" Cook's attention was principally directed to the eastern shores of 
this insular continent, to which he gave the name of New South 
"Wales ; and though the country has been since colonized, his des- 
criptions of its geographical and natural history may still be read with 
profit and pleasure. He had safely navigated this most dangerous 
coast, for a distance of thirteen hundred miles, where the sharp coral 
reefs, described in the preceeding extract, rise like a wall to the sur- 
face of the water, when, on the night of June 10th, the ship sudden- 
ly struck on a coral reef, which was only a few feet below the sur- 
face of the water. Though she was immediately lightened by every 
possible means, two tides passed before she could be got afloat, and 
it was then found that she had received so much injury as to require 
three pumps to be kept going night and day. When the men were 
almost worn out by this labor, a midshipman suggested the expedi- 
ent of passing a sail, charged with oakum and other light materials, 
under her keel 5 and this succeeded so well, that the water of the 
leak was easily kept down by a single pump. On the 14th a harbor was 
discovered, since named Endeavor Eiver, suitable for making the ne- 
cesary repair. It was then found that a large fragment of the coral 
rock had remained in the ship's bottom, so as in a great measure to 
close the leak, which would otherwise have admitted such a body of 
water as would have set all their exertion at defiance. To this pro- 
vidential occurrence they owed their escape, for had the ship foun- 
dered, the boats would have been insufficient to contain the crew. 

" When the repairs of the Endeavor were completed, Cook pur- 
sued his course through intricate islands and reefs to the north of 
New Holland, which he was the first to discover to be a separate 
island from New Guinea ; thence he proceeded to the Dutch settle- 
ments of Batavia, in the island of Java, for refreshment and repairs ; 
after which he returned to England, and cast anchor in the Downs, 
Jnne 12th, 1771, having been absent little more than two years. 

" Cook's discoveries had proved that New Zealand and New Hol- 
land were islands, and not part of a great southern continent, as had 



232 CAPTAIN COOK. 

been generally supposed. But he had not ascertained whether some 
immense tract of land did not exist in higher latitudes, and a second 
expedition was prepared for this further investigation. Two ships 
were fitted out : the Resolution, commanded by Cook, and a smaller 
vessel the Adventure, commanded by Captain Funeaux, which, how- 
ever, was separated from her consort early in the second year of 
her voyage. The expedition sailed from Plymouth, July 13th, 1772; 
its researches possess more of scientific than of general interest, for 
the navigators sailed along the immense masses of ice in the South- 
ern Ocean, without discovering any land of importance. Refresh- 
ments were obtained for the crew, at the Society Islands of New 
Zealand ; as in the former voyage, intercourse with the natives was 
so judiciously managed, that no dispute of any kind arose during the 
entire period. The principal discovery made in the Pacific Ocean, 
was the island to which he gave the name of New Caledonia ; and in 
the Southern Ocean he discovered Sandwich land, a bleak and deso- 
late coast, which was the most southern land that had previously 
been known. After having traversed sixty thousand miles of ocean, 
without so much injury to the ship as springing a mast or a yard, 
Cook returned to the Cape of Good Hope, whence he sailed for Eng- 
land, and on the 30th of July, 1774, cast anchor at Spithead. 

" He was received in England with merited applause, and appoint- 
ed Captain of Greenwich Hospital. At this period of our naval his- 
tory, the crews of ships suffered dreadfully from scurvy in long voy- 
ages, but Cook, during his long and painful surveys, had not lost a 
single man by this disease. He was induced by the Royal Society 
to detail the means by which he had been enabled to preserve his 
men in such unexampled health. In his paper read before the Roy- 
al Society, and justly rewarded with a gold medal by that body, he 
stated that he chiefly relied on a large stock of antiscorbutic stores, 
as malt, sourkrout, and portable broth ; the enforcement of a vegeta- 
ble diet wherever vegetables could be procured ; that he took great 
care not to expose the crew unnecessarily to the weather, and that 
he exercised careful supervision in keeping their persons, their clothes, 
and their berths clean, dry, and well aired. He was justly proud of 
his success, and in closing his account of his second voyage, refers to 
the efficacy of these precautions, with equal philanthropy and mod- 
esty : — 'Whatever may be the public judgment about other matters, 



CAPTAIN COOK. 233 

it is with real satisfaction, and without claiming any other merit 
than that of attention to my duty, that I can conclude this account, 
with an observation, which facts enable me to make, that our having 
discovered the possibility of preserving health among a numerous 
ship's company for such a length of time, in such varieties of climate, 
and amid such continued hardships and fatigues, will make this voy- 
age remarkable in the opinion of every benevolent person, when the 
disputes about the southern continent shall have ceased to engage the 
attention and to divide the judgment of philosophers.' 

" At this time, another and more important geographical problem 
engaged the attention of the nation — the practicability of a northeast 
passage to India and China. In the lives of Nelson will be found ac- 
counts of the expedition sent to investigate this question in the north- 
ern seas ; and it was deemed advisable that a similar attempt should 
be made in the North Pacific Ocean. Cook volunteered his services 
to command the latter expedition, and his offers were joyfully ac- 
cepted. But the government wisely resolved to combine measures 
of practical benevolence with scientific research ; cattle, sheep, and 
other useful animals were embarked, to be left, and if possible to be 
naturalized, in New Zealand, Tahiti, and other islands. The ships 
sailed from Plymouth, July 12th, 1776, but reached the Friendly 
Islands so late in the spring of 1777, that it would have been impos- 
sible to make any useful discovery in the Polar seas. Cook therefore 
spent the summer in examining various groups of islands in the Poly- 
nesian Archipelago, and while he greatly extended the geographical 
knowledge of these intricate seas, he left stocks of European animals 
at the principal islands, particularly at Tahiti, which have since be- 
come the source of valuable supplies to the whalers, and other navi- 
gators of the southern seas. 

" In the beginning of 1778, he directed his course northward, and 
after executing some necessary repairs at Nootka Sound, advanced 
to the Aleutian Islands and up Behring's Strait. Here he ascertain- 
ed that the continents of Asia and America were only thirteen 
leagues apart. Having penetrated through the straits into the Artie 
seas, he soon reached its icy barriers, which he continued to examine 
until the end of August, when the increase of the ice compelled him 
to seek a more genial climate. He took advantage of this delay, to 
examine more closely the Sandwich Islands, which he had previous- 



234 CAPTAIN COOK. 

ly discovered ; and directed his attention more particularly to Owy- 
hee, or, as it is now called, Hawai, the largest and most important of 
the group. Here the natives received the strangers with more than 
ordinary generosity and confidence. Near ten weeks were passed 
without any serious disagreement, and the last entry which Cook 
made in his journal was a declaration that this island, where his ca- 
reer was so soon to be prematurely closed, fully compensated for his 
disappointment in not discovering a northern passage homewards. 
'But to this dissappointment,' he wrote, 'we owed having it in our 
power to visit the Sandwich Islands, and to enrich our voyage 
with a discovery, which, though the last, seemed in many respects 
to be the most important that had been hitherto made by Europeans 
throughout the extent of the Pacific Ocean.' 

" The fatal affray in which this great navigator lost his life, arose 
from one of those accidents against which no human foresight can 
guard. Like all barbarous tribes, the natives of the Sandwich Islands 
were much addicted to stealing some of the new and valuable arti- 
cles displayed by their European visitors. Cook, with his usual be- 
nevolence, was disposed to make every allowance for the effect of 
such temptations on untutored savages, and generally effected 
the restoration of the abstracted articles by mildness and persua- 
sion. But on the night of February 13th, 1779, one of the ship's 
boats was stolen, and this was too serious a loss to be endured. On 
the 14th Cook went on shore, escorted by a few marines, hoping by 
amicable means, to gain possession of the person of the king of the 
district, and keep him as a hostage untill the boat had been restored. 
This remedy had frequently been tried before, and had always suc- 
ceeded. The king consented to go on board the ship, but his sub- 
jects displayed great dissatisfaction ; a crowd collected, the indications 
of hostility gradually increased, several blows were aimed at Captain 
Cook, who was obliged to fire in self-defence. This further exaspe 
rated the natives ; a shower of stones was discharged at the marines, 
who returned it with a volley. The sailors in the boats, instead of 
pulling close to shore, to take the captain and marines on board 
commenced a distant and straggling fire. Cook turned round to or- 
der them to approach, but the natives had now closed on the ma- 
rines, and driven them into the water, after having killed four of 
their number. The captain was making towards the pinnace, when 



WASHINGTON. 235 

ne was struck by an islander in the back of the head, and before he 
could recover from the blow, was stabbed by another in the neck. 
He might still have been rescued but for the confusion which pre- 
vailed on board the boats ; before the crew could recover their pre- 
sence of mind, he was overpowered by numbers, and his lifeless body 
borne off by the natives. Part of his remains was subsequently re- 
covered, and committed to the deep with the usual military honors. 
Since that time, civilization has penetrated to Hawai, and the memo- 
ry of Captain Cook is still venerated by the islanders, who from the 
first, evinced shame and sorrow for the melancholy catastrophe." 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

In the year 1753, when only twenty-one years of age, "Washington 
was first called upon to serve his country in a public manner. At 
this time, the French in Canada were erecting forts on lands to the 
west, part of which belonged to Virginia. The governor of Virginia 
deemed it his duty to forbid the encroachment. Washington was 
selected to carry a letter to the French commander on the Ohio. The 
journey was above four hundred miles, two hundred of which lay 
through a trackless wilderness, inhabited by Indians. He left Wil- 
liamsburg on the 31st of October, and delivered his letter on the 12th 
of December, Having received an answer, he set out immediately 
on his return, which proved a very dangerous and toilsome one. The 
following is his account of the difficulties which he encountered. 

"As I was uneasy to get back to make a report of my proceedings 
to his honor the governor, I determined to prosecute my journey 
the nearest way, through the woods, on foot. I took my necessary 
papers, pulled off my clothes, and tied myself up in a watch coat. 
Then, with a gun in hand, and a pack on my back, in which were 
my papers and provisions, I set out with Mr. G-ist, fitted in the same 
manner. We fell in with a party of Indians, who had lain in wait for 
us. One of them fired not fifteen steps off, but fortunately missed ; 
we walked on the remaining part of the night without making any 
stop, that we might get the start so far as to be out of the reach of 



236 WASHINGTON. 

their pursuit the next day, as we were well assured that they woiid 
follow our track as soon as it was light. The next day, Ave continued 
travelling until quite dark, and got to the river. We expected to 
have found the river frozen, but it was not more than fifty yards from 
each shore. The ice, I suppose, had been broken up, for it was driv- 
ing in vast quantities. There was no way of getting over, but on a 
raft, which we set about making, with one poor hatchet, and finished 
just after sun-setting : this was a whole day's work. We got it 
launched, then went on board of it, and set off; but before we were 
half way over, we were jammed in the ice, in such a manner that 
we expected every moment our raft to sink and ourselves to perish. 
I put out my setting pole to endeavor to stop the raft, that the ice 
might pass by, when the rapidity of the stream threw it with so 
much violence against the pole, that it jerked me out into ten feet 
water." 

" In this dangerous situation, he was saved by the protecting hand 
of G-od, and enabled to get on the raft again ; and by the next morn- 
ing the river was frozen so hard, that there was no difficulty in get- 
ting to the shore on the ice. The remainder of the journey was very 
fatiguing, being in the month of December, and for fifteen days it 
either snowed or rained. He arrived at his destination on the 16th 
of January, and delivered the letter to the governor." 

In the celebrated defeat of Braddock, Washington had occasion to 
display his great courage and self-possession. In a few minutes after 
the first fire of the enemy, Col. Washington was the only aid that 
was unwounded, and on him devolved the whole duty of carrying the 
orders of the commander. " He was cool and fearless. Though he 
had two horses killed under him, and four balls through his coat, he 
escaped unhurt, while every officer on horseback was either killed or 
wounded. After an action of three hours, the troops gave way in 
all directions, and Washington, and two others, brought off Braddock, 
who had been mortally wounded. He attempted to rally the re- 
treating troops ; but as he says himself, it was like attempting to stop 
the wild bears of the mountains. The conduct of the regular troops 
was most cowardly. The enemy were few in numbers, and had no 
expectation of victory. 

" The preservation of Washington, during this battle, was almost 
miraculous. He was exposed more than any other offiecr, and was 



WASHINGTON. 237 

particularly the object of savage attacks, on account of his superior 
bravery." A celebrated chieftain afterwards asserted that he dis- 
charged his rifle seventeen times at the form of Washington and could 
not hit him, and from this circumstance he prophecied that he would 
never be killed by a bullet, and that he would live to be a mighty 
chief. 

The circumstance of this prophecy was singular. In the year 1772 
Washington was engaged in exploring the Kanawha, and one day, 
while reposing in his camp, a party of Indians approached his tent. 
" They halted at a short distance, and the interpreter advancing, de- 
clared that he was conducting a party, which consisted of a grand 
sachem and some attendant warriors ; that the chief was a great man 
among the northwestern tribes, and the same who commanded the 
Indians on the fall of Braddock, sixteen years before ; that hearing 
of the visit of Col. Washington to the western country, this chief had 
set out on a mission, the object of which himself would make known. 
The Colonel received the ambassador with courtesy, and when the 
chief was introduced, he instantly recognized Washington amid a 
group of colonial officers, though sixteen years had elapsed since he 
had seen him. The usual salutations were going round, when it was 
observed that the grand chief, although perfectly familiar with every 
other person present, preserved towards Washington the most reve- 
rential deference. It was in vain that the colonel extended his hand ; 
the Indian drew back with the most impressive marks of awe and 
respect. Neither wine nor tobacco could induce an intercourse, and 
when a banquet was prepared, and the chief placed by the side of 
Washington, he would not eat. Amazement now possessed the com- 
pany, and an intense interest became apparent, as to the issue of so 
extraordinary an adventure. At last he spoke :" 

'-- 1 am a chief, and the ruler over many tribes. My influence ex- 
tends to the waters of the great lakes, and to the far blue mountains. 
I have travelled a long and weary path, that I might see the young 
warrior of the great battle. It was on the day that the white man's 
blood mixed with the streams of our forest, that I first beheld this 
chief I called to my young men, and said, ' Mark yon tall and daring 
warrior; he is not of the red-coat tribe; he hath an Indian's wisdom, 
and his warriors fight as we do ; himself alone is exposed. Quick, 
let your aim be certain, and he dies.' Our rifles were levelled — rifles 
10 



2^8 WASHINGTON. 

■which, but for him knew not how to miss. 'Twas all in vain ; a pow- 
er mightier far than we shielded him from harm. He cannot die in 
battle. I am old, and soon shall be gathered to the great council fire 
of my fathers, in the land of shades ; but ere I go, there is a something 
bids me speak in the voice of prophecy. Listen! The Great Spirit 
protects that man, and guides his destinies. He will become the 
chief of nations, and a people yet unborn hail him as the founder of 
a mighty empire." 

" The savage ceased ; — his oracle delivered, his prophetic mission 
fulfilled, he retired to muse in silence upon that wonder working 
spirit, which his dark 

' Untutored mind 
Saw oft in clouds, and heard him in the wind.' 

" Night coming on, the children of the forest spread their blankets, 
and were soon buried in sleep. At early dawn, they bid adieu to the 
camp, and were seen slowly winding their way towards the distant 
haunts of their tribe. 

" This prophecy made a deep impression on the mind of Dr. Craik, 
who frequently mentioned it during the war of the revolution, espe- 
cially after any perilous action, in which his friend and commandei 
had been peculiarly exposed. The night before the battle of Mon- 
mouth, while several officers, among whom was Dr. Craik, were dis- 
cussing of the anticipated dangers of the morrow, much anxiety was 
expressed about the safety of Washington, and a determination was 
expressed to petition the commander-in-chief to be cautious in the 
exposure of his person. Dr. Craik replied that Washington would 
not be turned aside from his duty, and reminded them of the old In- 
dian prophecy, — adding, ' Never mind the enemy, they cannot kill 
him.' 

" On the following day, the expected battle occurred, and a most 
bloody conflict it proved. Washington, having given his orders to 
Fayette, was personally engaged in forming the line of the main 
body, near the court house. While speaking to Col. Hartley, of the 
Pennsylvania line, a cannon ball struck just at his horse's feet, throw- 
ing the dirt in his face, and over his clothes. The general continued 
giving his orders, without noticing the derangement of his toilette. 
The officers present, several of whom were of the party the preceding 
evening, looked at each other with anxiety. The chief of the medi- 



WASHINGTON. 239 

cal staff, Dr. Craik, pleased with the proof of his prediction, and in 
reminiscence of what had passed the evening before, pointed towards 
heaven, which was noticed by the others, with a gratifying smile of 
acknowledgment." 

Of the coolness and courage of Washington numerous instances are 
given. At one time while standing with his aides in a situation where 
he was exposed to the musketry and cannons of the whole British 
hne, Colonel Cobb said to him, " Sir, you are too much exposed 
here. Had you not better step a little back ?" " Colonel Cobb," re- 
plied he, "if you are afraid, you have liberty to move back." 

On another occasion while Mr. Evans, one of the chaplains of the 
army, was standing near the general, a shot struck the ground so 
near as to cover his hat with sand. Somewhat agitated he took off 
his hat and said, " See here General." " Mr. Evans," rejoined Wash- 
ington with his usual composure, " You had better carry that home 
and show it to your wife and children." 

The following incident recalls the prophecy of the Indian chief 
Major Ferguson, who commanded one of the enemy's rifle corps, thus 
describes the incident, in a letter to a friend, which occurred just pre- 
vious to the battle of Brandy wine. " We had not lain long, when a 
rebel officer remarkable by a hussar dress, pressed toward our army, 
within a hundred yards of my right flank, not perceiving us. He 
was followed by another, dressed in dark, green, and blue, mounted 
on a bay horse, with a remarkably high cocked hat. I ordered three 
good shots to steal near, and fire at them ; but the idea disgusting 
me, I recalled the order. The hussar, in returning, made a circuit, 
but he passed within a hundred yards of us ; upon which I advanced 
from the woods towards him. Upon my calling, he stopped ; but, 
after looking at me, proceeded. I again drew his attention, and 
made signs to him to stop, levelling my piece at him ; but he slowly 
cantered away. By quick firing, I could have lodged half a dozen 
balls in or about him, before he was out of my reach. I had only to 
determine ; but it was not pleasant to fire at the back of an unoffend- 
ing individual, who was very coolly acquitting himself of his duty ; so 
I let it alone. 

" The next day, the surgeon told me that the wounded rebel officers 
informed him that general Washington was all the morning with the 
light troops, and only attended by a French officer in the hussar dress. 



240 WASHINGTON. 

he himself dressed and mounted as I have before described. I am 
rot sorry that I did not know who it was at the time." 

xhe following incident which is related of Washington, admirably 
illustrates his sagacity and coolness. While the American army was 
at West Point, a deep-laid plan was concocted to secure possession 
of the person of the commander-in-chief, and the plan was the more 
dangerous as it was to be accomplished by the means of an intimate 
acquaintance of Washington's, who it was supposed possessed his 
entire confidence. Washington was in the habit of visiting this per- 
son's family, and would not heed the many suspicions that were whis- 
pered about of his fidelity. On one occasion, as the general was 
about taking his leave, his friend earnestly invited him to dine with 
him on the following day, naming the hour of two, as the time for 
expecting him. He also hinted to Washington that he wished him 
to lay aside every formality and consider his house his home, and 
artfully insinuated that his appearance with a guard seemed to indi- 
cate that he was not visiting a friend. Washington grew suspicious 
from the over-earnestness of the man, and resolved to test his truth. 
He accepted the invitation, and remarked that he should come alone, 
and be punctual on the hour. 

At one o'clock the following day, the general proceeded unaccom- 
panied, to the house, taking an obscure by-road, and arriving at the 
spot a half an hour before the appointed time. The anxious host re- 
ceived him with open arms, and as the dinner hour had not arrived, 
a promenade was proposed on the piazza. Here Washington began 
to point out the different beauties of the surrounding country, and to 
mark out the spot where the enemy lay encamped, while his host ap- 
peared exceedingly anxious and nervous. His excitement increased, 
while his countenance manifested a degree of satisfaction, for on 
the road that approached to the rear of the house, could be seen a 
troop of seemingly British horse, galloping rapidly towards the 
place. 

"Bless me, sir !" exclaimed Washington; "what cavalry are those 
approaching the house ?" 

"A party of British light horse," rejoined his host, "who mean no 
harm, but were sent to protect me!" 

By this time the troop had arrived, and they were seen dismount- 
ing from their horses. 



WASHINGTON. 



241 



" General," said the host, walking to him, and laying his hand on 
nis shoulder, " general, you are my prisoner !" 

"I believe not," replied Washington, calmly slapping him on 
the shoulder in return, " but, friend, I know that you are mine J" 

In bewildering consternation the treacherous hypocrite looked from 
Washington to the men ; the one an American officer, and the others 
seemingly British soldiers. But the puzzle was soon solved. Wash- 
ington had ordered a company of Americans to disguise themselves 
as British cavalry, and to arrive at the mansion designated, at a 
qucvrter-lefore-two, by which means the treacherous plot was detect- 
ed and thwarted. The false friend was handed over to the keeping 
of the soldiers, and conducted to the American camp as a prisoner. 
He afterwards confessed that he had been offered a large sum to thus 
betray Washington into the hands of the English. At first Wash- 
ington meditated making a severe example of the man, but yielded 
to the earnest entreaties of his family, and pardoned him. 



ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

Israel Putnam* was born at Salem, in Massachusetts, on the 7th 
day of January, 1718. His father was a farmer and the son was 
destined for the same pursuit, for which no great extent of education 
was then believed to be required. Putnam was one of those kistan- 
oes of men in whom the deficiencies of education were supplied by 
natural resources and energies. His constitution of body was firm 
and vigorous ; and he early displayed that insensibility to danger, 
which was so strikingly exhibited in his subsequent career. It was 
the custom of the young men of that day to pursue athletic exer- 
cises, of which running, leaping, wrestling, and pitching the bar were 
the favorite ones, and were regarded as the surests tests of strength 
and skill,- and in these manly sports young Putnam was surpassed 
by none of his competitors. 

In the twenty-first year of his age he was married and removed to 



Compiled from Spark's Biography. 



242 ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

Poinfret in Connecticut, where occurred the first of those adventures 
for which he has been so celebrated. A she-wolf for a long time had 
been the scourge and terror of the farmers, whose pursuit of her had 
been altogether fruitless. In an evil hour for her own safety sh<^ 
made an onset upon Putnam's farm-yard. Seventy of his sheep and 
goats were killed and many others wounded in the course of a single 
night ; and it was determined to resort to decisive measures. Several 
of Putnam's neighbors combined with him in her pursuit. They 
tracked her to a cavern near the residence of Putnam. The place 
was selected with great judgment to withstand a siege ; as very few 
persons beside Putnam himself could have been persuaded to re- 
connoitre the position of its inmate. It is entered by an aperture 
about two feet square, on the side of a huge ledge of rock. No time 
was lost by the confederates in devising various methods of attack. 
A competent force of dogs was collected, but those that entered the 
cave retired in great disgust. Blazing straw, burning brimstone and 
other means were taken to draw the animal from her retreat, but all 
in vain. At last Putnam resolved to enter the cave. He first pro- 
cured some birch bark, to light his way and intimidate the wolf by 
its flame ; then threw aside his coat and vest ; and, causing a rope to 
be secured to his legs, by winch he might be drawn out at a concert- 
ed signal, set fire to his torch and groped his way into the cavern. 
At the extremity he saw the wolf who welcomed her unexpected 
visitor with an ominous growl. His examination being now com- 
pleted he gave the appointed signal and was drawn out. He now 
provided himself with a musket, and bearing it in one hand, and a 
lighted torch in the other, proceeded a second time upon his perilous 
adventure till he drew near the wolf. Just as she was on the point 
of springing, he took deliberate aim and fired ; then, stunned by the 
explosion and almost suffocated by the smoke, he was again drawn 
out as before. After a brief interval he entered the cavern for the 
third time, when finding the wolf dead, he seized her by the ears and 
was drawn out with his prize to the infinite satisfaction of the party. 
We next hear of him in the French and Indian wars. On one 
occasion he had the good fortune to save the life of his intimate 
friend, Major Rogers. They had been dispatched to reconnoitre 
Crown Point, and while concealed, a soldier came upon the very spot 
where Rogers lay, at some little distance from Putnam, and upon dis- 



TSRAEL, PUTNAM. 243 

covering him, called for aid to an adjacent guard, attempting at the 
same time to seize Roger's fusee with one hand, and to stab him with 
a dirk which he held in the other. Putnam, perceiving the imminent 
danger of his associate, and being unwilling to alarm the enemy by 
tiring, ran up, and struck the Frenchman dead before him with a 
single blow from hip fusee. 

On another occasion he was sent, in company with lieutenant Dur- 
kee, to examine the po'sition of the enemy at the Ovens, near Ticon- 
deroga. It was the custom of the British and Provincial troops to 
set fires by night in a circle around their camp. The French, on the 
contrary, more wisely placed them in the centre, so that their senti- 
nels were screened from observation by the darkness. 

Putnam and Durkee were not aware of this usage, and were creep- 
ing slowly on their hands and knees, in order to approach the fires, 
when they were confounded at finding themselves in the midst of 
the camp of the enemy, by whom they were discovered and fired 
upon. Durkee received a bullet in his thigh; but there was no time 
to be lost, and they began an expeditious retreat. Putnam led the 
way, and in a few minutes fell foremost into a clay pit, followed by^ 
Durkee, who had kept closely at his heels. Supposing his compa- 
nion in the pit to be one of the pursuers, Putnam had raised his arm 
to stab him, when he recognized Durkee's voice. Both then rushed 
from their retreat, in the midst of a shower of random bullets, and 
threw themselves behind a log, where they spent the remainder of 
the night. On examining his canteen, Putnam found it pierced with 
balls, and its contents entirely gone ; and next morning at daylight, 
he discovered that his blanket was sorely rent by fourteen bullet 
holes. 

Putnam was engaged in a great many encounters during the early 
wars in the colonies, in which he Avon great honor and renown. Not 
only in the battle field, but in the encountering of other dangers, did 
Putnam manifest his insensibility to fear. At one time the barracks 
of Fort Edward accidentally took fire. Within twelve feet of them 
stood the magazine, containing three hundred barrels of powder. 
The flames were spreading fiercely in the direction of the magazine, . 
when Putnam took his station on the roof of the barracks, as nearly 
as possible to the blaze. A line of soldiers were formed through a 
postern to the river, from which water was conveyed to Putnam, who 
11 



244 ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

threw it on the fire, standing all the while so near it, that his mittena 
were burned from his hands. He was supplied with another pair, 
soaked in water, and kept his post. Colonel Haviland considering 
his situation to be too dangerous, urged him to descend ; but he re- 
plied that a suspension of his efforts would be fatal, and entreated to 
be suffered to remain; and the colonel, encouraged by his intrepidity, 
gave orders that nothing more should be removed from the fort, ex- 
claiming, that if they must perish, all should be blown up together. 
The barracks began to totter ; Putnam came down and took his sta- 
tion between them and the magazine ; the external planks of this 
building were consumed, and there remained only a partition of tim- 
ber between the powder and the flames ; still he refused to quit his 
post, and continued pouring on the water until the fire was happily 
subdued. He had contended with the flames for an hour and a-half ; 
his face, his hands, and almost his whole body were blistered ; and, 
in removing the mittens from his hands, the skin was torn off with 
them. Several weeks elapsed before he recovered from the effects 
of this exposure. 

One day in the course of the summer of 1758, while Major Put- 
nam was lying in a batteau with five men, on the east side of the 
Hudson, near the rapids of Fort Miller, he was suddenly warned from 
the opposite shore, that the Indians were upon him. His batteau 
was at the head of the rapids ; to remain or cross the river would be 
inevitably fatal. Before the batteau could be put in motion, the In- 
dians opened their fire from the bank ; one man, who, being at a little 
distance from the rest, had been of necessity left behind, was instant- 
ly seized by them, and killed. Without a moment's hesitation, Put- 
nam seized the helm, and steered his batteau directly down the river ; 
there was scarcely even a chance for escape ; the current was broken 
into whirlpools and eddies, and it rushed furiously over shelves and 
among projecting rocks. Without any aid from his companions, who 
were aghast at the danger, he guided his boat, as it shot down, in the 
course which seemed least threatening, avoiding the rocks and stem- 
ming the eddies. Sometimes it was turned fairly around, again it 
sped onward with the fleetness of a dart; till in a few minutes it was 
gliding quietly over the smooth stream below. •' On witnessing this 
spectacle," says Col. Humphreys, " the rude savages viewed him with 
the superstitious veneration, which the Europeans, in the dark ages. 



ISRAEL PUTNAM. 245 

entertained for some of their most valorous companions. They deem- 
ed the man invulnerable, whom their balls, on his pushing from the 
shore, could not touch ; and whom they had seen steering in safety 
down the rapids that had never before been passed. They conceived 
it would be an affront against the Great Spirit to kill this favored 
mortal, with powder and ball, if they should ever see and know him 
again." It will be seen, however, that some of the race were not 
inclined to push their religious scruples so far, as to deny themselves 
the satisfaction of subjecting him to the ordeal of fire. 

In the month of August, Major Putnam was deserted by the for- 
tune which had hitherto attended him, and encountered some of the 
most remarkable of those perils, which give a character of romance 
to his personal history. A corps of five hundred men, under the 
command of Major Rogers and himself, was detached to watch the 
enemy in the neighborhood of Ticonderoga. Early one morning, 
Major Rogers, with a strange disregard to those precautions to which 
the Rangers were so often indebted for security, amused himself by a 
trial of skill with a British officer, in firing at a mark ; and this signal 
act of imprudence was followed by the loss of many lives. Molang, 
the French partizan, had been sent out to intercept the party, and 
was at this moment lying scarce a mile from their encampment. The 
sound of the firing guided him at once to their position ; and he part- 
ed his men in ambush along the outskirts of the forest, near the path 
through which they were to pass. Soon after sunrise, the Ameri- 
cans resumed their march, and after passing a thicket through which 
their course led them, they were just about to penetrate the forest 
when they were furiously attacked by the French and savages. The 
assault, however unexpected, was sustained with gallantry and cool- 
ness. The action began to assume a desperate character. Putnam 
was determined to maintain his ground ; his soldiers, as occasion re- 
quired, fought in ranks in the open spaces of the forest, or fired from 
behind the shelter of the trees. But his own fusee chanced to miss 
fire, while he held its muzzle against the breast of an athletic savage ; 
thus defenceless he was compelled to surrender ; and hi3 antagonist 
having bound him securely to a tree, returned to the battle. The 
tree to which Putnam was secured was thus brought midwa}^ be- 
tween the combatants, in the centre of the hottest fire of both ; and 
ne stood, wholly unable to move his body, or even to incline hia 



246 ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

head, in the midst of a shower of balls, of which many lodged in the 
tree above him, and several passed through the sleeves and skirts of 
his coat. In this position, than which it would be difficult for the 
imagination to conceive one more appalling, he remained for more 
than one hour ; each of the parties meanwhile giving ground several 
times in succession, but not so far as to place him beyond the field 
of contest. Once, when the Provincials had retired a little, and the 
savages were near him, a young Indian amused himself by throwing 
his tomahawk at the tree, apparently to ascertain how nearly he 
could cast it to the body of the prisoner, without striking him ; and 
the weapon more than once lodged in the tree, within a hair's breadth 
of the mark. When this barbarian grew weary of his sport, a French 
subaltern drew near, and leveled his musket at Putnam's breast. 
Fortunately it missed fire. It was in vain that the latter claimed the 
treatment due to him as a prisoner of war The Frenchman, instead 
of desisting, pushed him violently with his musket, and after dealing 
him a severe blow upon the cheek with the butt-end of his piece, left 
him to his fate. After a long and gallant contest, the Provincials re- 
mained in possession of the field ; the enemy were routed, and reti- 
red, taking with them their prisoner. 

When the Indians had retreated to a considerable distance from 
the field of the battle, they deprived Major Putnam of his coat, vest, 
stockings, and shoes, bound his hands tightly together, and piled the 
packs of a number of the wounded on his back. In this wretched 
condition, exhausted by fatigue, and severely suffering from the in- 
juries he had received, he was forced to march for many miles through 
a mountainous and rugged track; until the party overcome with 
weariness, at length halted to rest themselves. Meantime the tight- 
ness of the cords around his wrists, had caused his hands to swell, 
and made them exquisitely painful ; the blood was flowing from his 
torn and naked feet; the weight of his burden became intolerable to 
his exhausted frame ; and he entreated the savages to loose his hands 
or to release him from his sufferings by death. A French officer in- 
terfered, removed the ligatures, and relieved him of a portion of his 
burthen. 

A spot for the evening's encampment was selected, and the Indians 
taking with them Major Putnam, went thither in advance of the rest 
of the party. On the way he experienced fresh outrages, and was 



ISRAEL PUTNAM. 247 

deeply wounded on the cheek by a blow from a tomahawk. He had 
been thus far spared for a darker purpose ; it had been resolved that 
he should perish at the stake, with all those refinements of torture, 
by which the savages know how to enhance the bitterness of death. 
The depths of the forest were chosen as the scene of sacrifice. The 
victim was bound entirely naked to a tree ; large piles of fuel were 
laid in a circle around him ; and, while these fearful preparations were 
in progress, they were rendered more appalling by the wild songs and 
exultation of the Indians. When all was ready, and their victim was 
awaiting the hour of death with the fortitude which never failed him, 
the fire was set to the fuel about him ; but a sudden shower extin- 
guished the flames. After repeated efforts the blaze began to rise 
from every portion of the circle. Putnam's hands were closely bound, 
but he was still able to move his body ; and his convulsive writhing 
to avoid the flame, gave infinite diversion to his tormentors, who ac- 
companied their orgies with songs and dances, and their usual terrific 
expressions of delight. All hope of relief was now at an end, and 
nature was beginning to yield to the excess of suffering, when a 
French officer rushed through the throng, dashed aside the blazing 
hands, and cut the cords of the prisoner. After sternly reprimanding 
the Indians for their cruelty to the officer, who was Molang himself, 
took Putnam under his protection until he could restore him to his 
Indian captor. This savage had not been present at the attempt to 
sacrifice him, and during his captivity had shown him a degree of 
kindness. 

When Putnam was placed in his hands, he appeared to feel for his 
sufferings; and, finding him unable to eat the hard bread set before 
him, in consequence of the injury inflicted by the Frenchman, moist- 
ened it with water for his relief. Apprehensive, however, that Put- 
nam might take advantage of the darkness to escape, he removed his 
moccassins, and bound them to his wrists ; then placed him on the 
ground upon his back, and, extending his arms as far asunder as pos- 
possible, secured them to two young trees. His legs were next secured 
in the same ingenious manner. Several long and slender poles were 
next cut, and laid together with bushes, transversely across Putnam's 
body ; on the extremity of these lay several Indians, in such a man- 
ner that the slightest effort to escape must awaken them. Having 
completed this singular cage, the Indians were content with the pro- 



248 ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

vision they had made for his safe keeping ; and in this particularly 
inconvenient prison, Putnam spent the dreary night that followed his 
release from death. He was accustomed to relate, that,, even while 
thus reposing, he could not refrain from smiung, as he thought of the 
odd subject for the canvass which was presented by the group of 
which he contributed the most prominent figure ; but his merriment 
was probably of short duration. 

Next morning he was released from durance, and provided with a 
blanket ; some bear's meat was given him to allay his hunger, and he 
was permitted to resume his march without a burden. After be- 
ing conveyed to Ticonderoga, he was sent to Montreal, and eventu- 
ally effected his exchange. While at Montreal he met with Colonel 
Schuyler, another American prisoner, to whom he was indebted for 
many acts of kindness. Putnam had been suffered to remain without 
a coat, vest, or stockings ; the remnant of his clothing was miserably 
tattered, and his body exhibited serious marks of the violence he had 
endured. Colonel Schuyler immediately supplied him with all the 
necessities he required. 

After his release he signalized himself on many occasions, and was 
promoted to the rank of Colonel. After ten years service he retired 
from the army at the conclusion of the war, and remained in private 
life until the breaking out of the war of the revolution. 

At the very outset, when Parliament first passed the Stamp Act, 
Putnam's heart and hand was devoted to the cause of freedom. He 
was among the foremost to compel the appointed Stamp-masters in 
Connecticut to relinquish their odious office; and his hostility to the 
obnoxious law was determined and uncompromising. When the an- 
ticipated collission came between the colonies and the mother coun- 
try, he left his farm and hastened to take an active part in the quar- 
rel. He did great and signal service at Bunker Hill, on Long Island, 
and in New Jersey. As we are not preparing his biography, of 
course, we cannot enter into the details of these transactions, but 
must simply confine ourselves to his personal adventures. He had 
the command of the army in New York, and it was always a favorite 
plan of his to make a descent upon the city, but his design was never 
executed. 

At one time he was visiting his outposts at West Greenwich, when 



ETHAN ALLEN. 249 

Gov. Tryon, with a corps of fifteen hundred men, was on a march 
against it. Putnam had with him only one hundred and fifty men, 
with two pieces of artillery ; with these he took his'station on the 
brow of a steep declivity near the meeting house. The road turned 
to the north, just before it reached the edge of the steep ; after pro- 
ceeding in this direction for a considerable distance, it inclined to the 
south, rendering the descent gradually and tolerably safe. As the 
British advanced, they were recived with a sharp fire from the artil- 
lery ; but perceiving the dragoons about to charge, Putnam ordered 
his men to retire to a swamp, inaccessible to cavalry, while he him- 
self dashed directly down the precipice, in a spot where one hundred 
stone steps were cut out in the solid rock for the accommodation of 
foot passengers. His pursuers who were close upon him, paused with 
astonishment as they reached the edge, and saw him accomplish his 
perilous descent, and not one of them daring to follow, they discharged 
their pistols after him, one bullet of which passed through his hat. 
This wonderful feat has done more for the name of Putnam than al- 
most any other one act. The declivity, from this circumstance, has 
since borne the name of Putnam's Hill, 

Shortly after this, in 1779, he was seized with a paralytic attack 
which compelled him to retire from the army. He died on the 17th 
day of May, 1790. 



ETHAN ALLEN. 

Ethan Allen was born in Connecticut, but while yet young, nis 
parents emigrated to the district west of the Green Mountains, where 
he was necessarily deprived of the advantages of a good education, 
but the history of which afforded a field for the exercise and develop- 
ment of those strong, native talents that afterwards won him such 
undying honor in the war of the Revolution. His parents settled in 
the district known as the New Hampshire Grants, which became the 
subject of a violent dispute between the colonies of New Hampshire 
and New York. The original charters to these colonies were indefi- 
nite in regard to their boundary lines, and a question arose between 



250 ETHAN ALLEN. 

these two colonies in relation to the lawful ownership of this district, 
which since the Eevolution has been created into the independent 
state of Vermont. The governor of New Hampshire issued to a 
number of settlers certain grants of land in the disputed territory, 
and these settlers took possession of the land, and became engaged in 
its cultivation. But the governor of New York denied the validity 
of these grants, and attempted to wrest the property from the posses- 
sion of the actual settlers. This attempt was resented by the colo- 
nists, who combined under Ethan Allen, with the resolve of .defend- 
ing the soil they had improved and cultivated, unto the last. The 
attempt of the sheriff to serve certain writs being forcibly resisted by 
Allen, and his coadjutors, a proclamation was issued offering a reward 
for the apprehension of Allen and other leaders of the party. An 
open war now existed, and hostilities commenced. The Green Moun- 
tain Boys, as the belligerents were denominated, thought it advisable 
to organize for the contest in a manner worthy of the cause at stake, 
and Ethan Allen was appointed to the command. There were seve- 
ral slight collisions between the parties, and we find Col. Allen en 
gaged- in several adventures during the pending of the question. We 
quote from his life, by Jared Sparks. 

" On two or three occasions Col. Allen was near being taken, in 
consequence of the rewards offered for him in the governor's procla- 
mations. When he made excursions abroad, whether for military or 
other purposes, he commonly went armed with a musket and a brace 
of pistols. Being on a tour to the North, in company with a single 
friend, he one evening entered a house not many miles from Crown 
Point, in which, to his surprise, and after it was too late to retreat, 
he found there were two sergeants and ten men. He was known to 
the sergeants, and soon had reason to suspect, that they intended to 
seize him. Putting the best face upon the matter, however, and con- 
cealing his suspicions, he called for supper, conversed in great good 
humor with the sergeants, asked them to drink with him, and the 
evening passed away merrily till bedtime. It then appeared that 
there were no spare beds in the house, as they had all been taken by 
the first comers; but these persons very civilly proposed to yield 
their claims to Col. Allen, and pressed him with a show of earnesl 
to accept their offer. He declined it, with thanks for their courtesy, 
declaring that he could not think of depriving them of their rcJ»l 



ETHAN ALLEN. 251 

merely for his personal accommodation, and that, as the weather was 
warm, he and his companions would seek lodgings in the barn. To 
hide their real design they left their guns behind. The sergeants ac- 
companied them to the barn, saw them safely in their quarters, wished 
them a good nights repose, and returned to the house. By a previous 
concert a young girl in the family took the first opportunity, unseen, 
to carry the guns to the barn. The sergeants waited till they sup- 
posed the two travellers were asleep, and that there would be no 
danger from their pistols, and then stole softly out, flushed with the 
prospect of speedily entrapping the renowned leader of the Green 
Mountain Boys. But their imaginary victory ended in disappoint- 
ment. Col. Allen, having succeeded in his scheme of deceiving his 
pursuers, had arisen and departed, and the night screened him from 
their search. 

"At another time, while he was on a visit to his brother in Salis- 
bury, Connecticut, a plot was laid by several persons, residing be- 
tween that place and Hudson's River, to come upon him by surprise, 
seize, and carry him to Poughkeepsie jail. This plot was accidentally 
discovered in time to defeat the designs of the conspirators. 

But this aggravated question was after a time lost sight of by 
events of vastly greater moment. The revolutionary struggle was on 
the eve of breaking out, and all eyes and all interests were alike 
turned to this important subject. Early in 1775, soon after the bat- 
tle of Lexington, the attention of the colonists was drawn to the 
possession of Ticonderoga. An expedition was fitted out for tha*- 
purpose, and Col. Allen was appointed to the command. He arrived 
without molestation on the shore of the lake opposite to Ticonde- 
roga. He here found a guide, who was acquainted with the grounds 
around the fortress, and the places of access, who offered to lead him 
to the place. Boats were provided, his party conducted over, and 
just at the dawn of day he began to move against the fort. 

" He drew up his men in three ranks, addressed them in a short 
harangue, ordered them to face to the right, and placing himself at 
the head of the middle file, led them silently but with a quick step 
up the heights on which the fortress stood, and before the sun rose 
he had entered the gate and formed his men on the parade between 
the barracks. Here they gave three hurras, which aroused the 
sleeping inmates. When Colonel Allen passed the gate, a sentinel 



252 ETHAN ALLEN. 

snapped ids fusee at him, and then retreated under a covered way. 
Another sentinel made a thrust at an officer with a bayonet, which 
slightly wounded him. Col. Allen returned the compliment with a 
cut on the side of the soldier's head, at which he threw down his 
musket and asked quarter. No more resistance was made. Allen 
demanded to be shown to the apartment of Captain Delaplace, the 
commandant of the garrison. It was pointed out, and Colonel Allen 
hastily ascended the stairs, which were attached to the outside of the 
barracks, and called out with a voice of thunder at the door, ordering 
the astonished captain instantly to appear, or the whole garrison 
should be sacrificed. Started at so strange and unexpected a summons, 
he sprang from his bed and opened the door, when the first saluta- 
tion of his boisterous and unseasonable visitor, was an order imme- 
diately to surrender the fort. Rubbing his eyes and trying to collect 
his scattered senses, the captain asked by what authority he presumed 
to make such a demand. ' In the name of the Great Jehovah and 
the Continental Congress,' replied Allen. Not accustomed to hear 
much of the Continental Congress in this remote corner, nor to re- 
spect its authority when he did, the commandant began to speak ; 
but Allen cut short the thread of his discourse by lifting his sword 
over his head, and reiterating the demand for an immediate surrender. 
Having neither permission to argue, nor power to resist, Captain De- 
laplace submitted, ordering his men to parade without arms, and the 
garrison was given up to the victors." 

After this, he joined Gen. Montgomery[in the expedition into Can- 
ada. While here, and out on a recruiting expedition, he met Major 
Brown, who had prepared to unite their forces in an attack upon 
Montreal. Allen readily agreed, but the attempt was unfortunate. 
He was made prisoner, and when brought before Gen. Prescott, the 
English commander became so enraged, upon learning that he was 
the Col. Allen who had taken Ticonderoga, that he burst into a pas- 
sion, and ordered him to be bound hand and feet, in irons, and con- 
fined on board the Gaspee schooner of war. The irons were massive 
and so fastened as to give him constant pain. He was hand-cuffed, 
and his ankles were confined in shackles, to which was attached a 
bar of iron eight feet long. In this plight, he was thrust into the 
lowest part of the ship, where he had neither a bed, nor any article 



ETHAN ALLEN. 253 

of furniture. For five weeks he was kept in this manner on board 
the Gaspee, when he was removed to Quebec. Here he was trans- 
ferred to another vessel, and then to a third. From this he was again 
removed to the Adamant, in which he was sent to England. During 
the voyage, which lasted nearly forty days, he was kept in irons and 
closely confined in an apartment where there were thirty other pris- 
oners. On arriving at Falmouth he was sent to Pendennis Castle, 
where his condition was much improved. But the treatment he had 
received raised the indignation of many persons in England, and the 
government, with policy, resolved to send him back as a prisoner of 
war, and for exchange. It was done, and he was sent out in an arma- 
ment for North Carolina, and on arriving at Cape Fear Eiver, he was 
transferred to the frigate Mercury, bound for Halifax. Here they 
suffered much, and, arriving at their place of destination, were re- 
moved to a sloop lying in the harbor. In this confinement they were 
served with so scanty an allowance of provisions that they suffered 
cruelly from the distress of hunger, which, added to attacks of scurvy, 
made their condition more deplorable than it had been at any former 
time. But after a time he was removed to the Halifax jail, where his 
condition was amended. 

From Halifax, he was sent to New York, and there released on his 
parole, but directed to reside on the western side of Long Island. 
Here he lived in comparative comfort, until he was suddenly arrested 
and thrown into jail in New York, on the charge of having infringed 
his parole, which he affirmed was untrue, and the whole proceedings 
unjust and malicious. For the space of three days he was immured 
in his cell without a morsel of food. The pangs of hunger became ex- 
treme, but they were at last assuaged ; and, in a few days, he was 
transferred to another apartment of the jail. From this place he was 
not removed until the end of his captivity. His exchange was at last 
effected, and he was restored to freedom. 



254 JOHN STARK. 



MAJOR GENERAL STARK. 

The fortunate issue of the war of the Revolution was indebted 
greatly to the French and Indian war. In this latter contest, the 
leaders of the American forces, while serving under the British flag, 
were schooled in warfare, and experienced in the battle field. Had a 
long interval elapsed between the two wars, the officers who had im- 
bibed their skill in such terrible scenes, would have died off, and all 
military knowledge have faded from the minds of the people. Such 
a position of affairs would have, undoubtedly, led to the defeat of the 
cause. This fact clothes the early wars of the provinces with greater 
interest, and, in their annals, we look for the early manifestation of 
those powers in the heroes of the Revolution, that, at a later date, 
shone out so brightly for the cause of liberty. Among those who 
fought and served in these conflicts was John Stark. He was a 
strong and active youth, full of fire and energy, fearless, and fond of 
adventure. 

On one occasion, accompanied by his elder brother, and by two 
young men by the names of Stinson and Eastman, he started on a 
hunting expedition into the vast wilderness near the north western 
part of New Hampshire. " While pursuing their vocation in those 
solitudes, they came one day upon a trail of ten Indians, which in- 
duced them to make preparations to leave. John, while collecting 
the traps, a little distance off, was suddenly surrounded and seized by 
the savages, who asked him where his other companions were. For- 
getting himself, and thinking only of the safety of his friends, he 
pointed in a wrong direction, and succeeded in leading the Indians 
two miles out of the way. He would have entirely baffled their 
search but for the signal guns of his fellow hunters, which they, 
alarmed at his long absence, fired for his return. Guided by the 
sound, the savages retraced their steps, and came upon them moving 
down the river — Stark and Stinson in a boat, and Eastman on the 
bank. The latter they immediately seized, and ordered John Stark 
to hail the other two, and bring them ashore. He obeyed, but instead 
of asking them to share his captivity, he told them of his peril, and 
advised them to pull with all their might to the ODposite shore. They 



JOHN STARK. 255 

sprang to their oars, which the Indians no sooner saw, than four of 
them loaded their guns and fired. Toung Stark, who watched their 
movements, suddenly leaped forward and knocked two of their guns 
in the air. The others then lifted their pieces and fired, but the in- 
trepid arm of the young hunter again interposed, and struck the bar- 
rels aside from their aim. One shot, however, took effect, and young 
Stinson fell back in the boat dead. John called out to his elder 
brother to fly, for the guns were now all unloaded. He did so and 
escaped. The Indians, maddened at their failure, fell furiously on 
Stark and beat him cruelly. 

" When the party returned to St. Francis, the two prisoners were 
compelled to run the gauntlet. Eastman first passed through the 
lines, and was terribly bruised, but Stark had no intention of being 
tamely flogged. No sooner did he approach the fearful avenue of 
warriors, with their uplifted rods and bludgeons, than he snatched a 
club from the nearest one and sprang forward. With his eye glan- 
cing defiance, and his trusty club swinging in rapid circles about his 
head, falling, now on the right hand, and now on the left, he cleared 
a terrible path for himself through the throng, scattering the warriors 
in affright, and dealing far more blows than he received, in his pas- 
sage. 

"He remained three or four months with the Indians, who found 
him rather an impracticable captive. When ordered to hoe corn, he 
cut it up, and left the weeds standing; and, when pressed still farther, 
threw his hoe into the river. Instead of being exasperated at this 
defiant spirit, his captors were pleased with it, and adopted him as 
a young chief into their tribe. At length he was ransomed." 

In the French war he served as a lieutenant, and was engaged in 
many of the conflicts that deluged the frontiers with blood. In 1757, 
he served under Major Rogers, in an expedition doAvn Lake George, 
on the ice, to Lake Champlain. As they approached Ticonderoga 
tiiey learned that a large body of French and Indians were waiting 
for them. They immediately ordered a retreat through the country, 
and proceeded in single file through the snow, when they suddenly came 
upon a large body of the enemy. So unexpected was the meeting that a 
rapid volley was discharged into their ranks before they were scarcely 
aware of the danger. They were immediately formed in order of 
battle to repel the attack of the enemy. A desperate contest ensued. 



256 JOHN STARK. 

Rogeis was wounded, and the command devolved on Stark. Dark- 
ness was now coming on, and some proposed a retreat, when Stark, 
who knew that their safety depended upon keeping their situation 
until the darkness would cover their retreat, declared that he would 
shoot the first man who attempted to fly. Fighting in the thickest of 
the battle, a bullet struck the lock of his gun and shattered it to 
pieces. At that moment a Frenchman, not many yards from where 
he stood, staggered back with a shot through his body, when Stark 
sprang forward and seized the gun from his relaxed grasp. Despe- 
rately and obstinately the conflict continued, with the snow four feet 
on the ground, and a January night rapidly approaching. Darkness 
having settled on the scene, the enemy ceased firing, and Stark or- 
dered a retreat. All night the fatigued and wounded company con- 
tinued their course, and when morning came, halted on Lake George, 
it being utterly impossible for the wounded to proceed farther. The 
nearest fort was forty miles distant, and Stark volunteered to go for 
aid. " Nothing can show more strikingly the prodigous energy of the 
man, than this expedition. Wearied as he was, and not having had 
any sleep the night before, he set out and accomplished the forty 
miles, on snow shoes, by evening. Without waiting to rest himself, 
and too noble to send others in his stead, he immediately started back, 
and, travelling all night, reached his companions next morning. Hasti- 
ly placing his wounded in sleds, he set out again, and, in his anxiety 
to relieve their sufferings, pushed on with such rapidity that he 
reached the fort again that night. Few men of our day could stand 
such a prodigious strain on their physical energies as this. After 
having marched and fought all one day, then retreated all night, he 
travelled on foot, without stopping to rest, a hundred and twenty miles 
in less than forty hours."* 

When the war of the Revolution broke out, and news was brought 



* This statement is from Mr. Headley. The editor is inclined to think that he has been 
mistaken. Stark, undoubtedly, walked the forty miles to the fort, but as he returned 
with commodious sleds for the accommodation of the wounded, it seems improbable that 
he should have walked back to his companions, and again walked to the fort. Besides, 
to walk over forty miles and in snow four feet deep, after the excessive labors of a battle, 
and an arduous retreat, was of itself a wonderful exercise of physical power ; but to go 
over this distance three times, when already fatigued and wearied, in four feet snow, 
mind ! and that without any sleep for two nights, or repose of any kind, seems altogether 
incredible, and utterly beyond the strength of man. 



JAMES CLINTON. 257 

to him of the battles of Concord and Lexington, within ten min- 
utes' time, he was in the saddle and hastening to Boston. In the 
Battle of Bunker Hill he was present and fought courageously ; was 
with Washington at Trenton, and in the Battle of Bennington won 
for himself undying glory. When, on this occasion, the enemy first 
appeared before him, he pointed them out to his soldiers, saying, 
" See there, men ! there are the red-coats. Before night they are 
ours, or Molly Stark's a widow." It does not come within the scope 
of our plan to describe the battle, suffice for us to say, that it was 
one of the most desperately contested of the whole war. Stark's 
horse was shot under him in the early part of the engagement, but 
with his sword in his hand, he continued to pass through his ranks 
on foot, cheering on his men, and directing the progress of the battle. 
The victory to the Americans was most decisive and glorious. 

After the war, Stark retired into private life, and lived to the good 
old age of ninety-four, and long enough to see the mighty growth 
and increasing greatness of the country whose independence he had 
helped to form. 



MAJOR GENERAL CLINTON. 

James Clinton, when but twenty years of age, served at Fort 
Frontenac, and thus early took his first lesson in war. During the 
French and Indian war he saw considerable service, and attained a 
high reputation for bravery, judgment, and military skill. 

In the war of the • Bevolntion he commanded at Fort Clinton on 
the occasion of its assault by Sir Henry Clinton. Here he was join- 
ed by his brother, George Clinton. The attack of Sir Henry was 
resisted with a devoted heroism, but overcome by superior numbers, 
and attacked by English ships of war in the stream, they were grad- 
ually overcome. But the battle was desperately contested, and when 
at last all hope was gone, Clinton, disdaining to surrender, gathered 
a body of men around him, and with his brother at his side, attempt- 
ed to force his way through the enemy's ranks. 

"Fleeing to the river shore he came upon a small boat, in which 



258 JAMES CLINTON. 

he urged his brother George to embark, and make his escape. The 
latter firmly refused to go, unless he accompanied him. But this was 
impossible; and to end the dispute, James pushed his brother into 
the boat, and shoved it from the shore before he had any time to offer 
any resistance, then springing on a horse near by, galloped away. It 
was dark, and as he came to a bridge, which he must cross, he saw 
it occupied with English soldiers. They challenged him ; but order- 
ing them to clear the way, he drove the spurs in his horse, and dash- 
ed through the bayonets, one of which pierced his leg. Knowing 
that his safety lay in reaching the mountains, he flung himself from 
his horse, and snatching the bridle from his head, plunged into the 
woods, His remarkable presence of mind did not forsake him in 
this critical moment. He knew that unless he could catch another 
horse, he must perish amid the mountains, with his wound, before he 
could reach any settlement. And remembering that there were 
half-wild horses roving about the shores, he suddenly bethought him- 
self that he might possibly take one of them next morning and es- 
cape. So, preserving the bridle he had taken, he limped away ; and 
sliding down a precipice a hundred feet high, into a ravine, was out of 
the reach of his pursuers. Creeping along the steep and rocky sides, 
with the blood oozing rapidly from his wound, he slipped and fell in- 
to the stream. The cold plunge helped him, for it stayed the effusion 
of blood ; and drenched and faint, he made his way to the mountains, 
where he remained all night, racked with pain, covered with blood, 
and burned with fever. When daylight dawned, he began to look 
about him, and finally came upon a horse which he caught. Placing 
the bridle, which he still retained, upon him, he mounted bare-back 
and rode sixteen miles — every step driving a dagger into the wound- 
ed leg — before he came to a house. He presented a frightful spec- 
tacle to the astonished inmates — his regimentals were covered with 
blood, his cheeks flushed with fever, and his voice hollow and 
husky." 

After his recovery, Clinton joined Sullivan's expedition against the 
Indians, in which he won new laurels. On his return, he was sta- 
tioned at Albany, where he remained till near the close of the war. 

" While here, an incident occurred, which illustrated in a striking 
manner his character. A mutiny had broken out in a regiment, and 
it refused to obey the orders to march. When word was brought to 



PAUL JONES. 259 

Olmton, a fearful expression passed over his countenance, and snatch- 
ing up his pistols, he walked to the head of the refractory regiment. 
Casting his eye along it for a moment, he thundered out ' March !' 
but not a soldier stirred. Turning to the ringleader, he presented his 
pistol to his breast, and told him to advance or he would shoot him 
dead on the spot. The dastardly sergeant knew well what kind of 
a man he had to deal with, and pale with rage and fear, moved on. 
Clinton then passed along to the second and third officer, in the same 
way, till he traversed the Avhole line, and put it in motion. Thus, by 
his resolution and energy, he quelled a dangerous mutiny, and re- 
duced the disobedient ranks to subordination." 



COMMODORE PAUL JONES. 

The exploits and adventures of Paul Jones on the coast of Scotland 
and England during the American Eevolution, were of the most 
daring and extraordinary nature. He was appointed by Congress 
commander of the Ranger, in which he sailed from Portsmouth, New 
Hampshire, Nov. 1st. 1777. His first adventure of any note, was his 
celebrated descent upon Whitehaven, on the coast of Scotland. 

" Having worked his ship as near the town as he thought advisa- 
ble, two boats, containing thirty-one men and a plentiful provision of 
combustibles, left the Ranger, and reached the outer pier just at day- 
break. Jones commanded the first boat in person, and the other was 
intrusted to Lieutenant Wallingsfbrd ; the latter being charged with 
firing the vessels on the north side of the harbor, where were about 
seventy vessels, while he undertook all the rest, amounting to about 
one hundred and fifty, chiefly of two hundred and four hundred tons 
burthen. There were two batteries at Whitehaven, the first of which 
Jones scaled at once, taking the soldiers prisoners, and spiking the 
guns. He then started off a quarter of a mile to the other battery, 
which he secured in the same way ; and on returning was met by 
Lieutenant Wallingsford; who stated to him that he had great reluct- 
ance thus to destroy the undefended property of poor people ; and 



260 PAUL JONES. 

had hesitated until his candles had burnt out, and he had found it im- 
possible to execute his part of the enterprise. It was now growing 
late, (or rather early,) and many of Jones's own candles had gone 
out, and the dismayed inhabitants were beginning to collect, and run 
in affright through the streets. Jones saw that his darling scheme 
must be abandoned on the very eve of its accomplishment ; but being 
determined to treat his vexation to a little burning, at all hazards, he 
with his own hands kindled a fire in the poop of a large vessel, sur- 
rounded thickly by others, sought a barrel of tar which he rolled into 
the flames, and then stood on the wharf keeping the terrified people 
at bay with a pistol, until the vessel was in a sheet of flame. He 
then entered his boat and quietly rowed out of the harbor, while the 
astonished inhabitants now ran to the fort, to vent their revenge, but 
found their guns all spiked and useless. In a short time, however, 
they got some ship-guns into operation : but the shot fell so wide and 
short that Jones and his crew returned the salute with their pistols, 
and went laughing back to their ship — while the citizens now began 
collecting their wits, and making arrangements to arrest the fire in 
the shipping. 

" It was ebb tide, and the shipping all lay out of the water — the 
ebbing having retarded Jones's boats at least two hours beyond the 
time he calculated on. Had the fires, however, been kindled accord- 
ing to Jones's orders, it is almost certain that, late as it was, every 
ship in the harbor would have been destroyed, and probably even the 
town itself. It was afterwards ascertained that one of Jones's sailors, 
named David Freeman, had been left behind — or rather had deserted 
and stayed behind of his own'accord — having, on first going on shore, 
taken advantage of Jones's absence at the forts to escape, and inform 
some of the citizens of what was going on. 

" On the 24th of April, Jones had his first regular sea-fight with an 
armed enemy. In the morning, finding himself off Carrickfergus, he 
saw the Drake coming out of the harbor, and running out into mid- 
channel, quietly waited for her — having first captured her small boat, 
which had been sent ahead to reconnoitre and gain information. 
From the officer of this boat Paul learned that news of his recent 
operations had been received from Whitehaven, and that the Drake 
was about to pun/sh him, having a great many volunteers on board, 
amounting, with aer ordinary crew, to one hundred and sixty men. 



PAUL JONES. 261 

He also saw, from several points on either side of the channel, the 
smoke of the alarm-fires rising ; and perceived, with a feeling of pride 
which he could not repress, that he had effectually aroused the atten- 
tion and the fears of the whole country. 

" The Drake, as she slowly drew out of Belfast Loch against a heavy 
tide, was accompanied by several small vessels, filled with spectators, 
who came out to enjoy the spectacle of the fight. But it was late 
before they approached the Ranger, and they concluded to return to 
shore. The Ranger now stood over toward the Drake, and hauled 
up her courses — fying-to with her main-topsail to the mast. At last 
the Drake came out, and the Ranger filled away and ran out into 
mid-channel, with the Drake following closely, and soon coming 
within hail. The Drake made the usual summons, ' What ship is 
that ?' to which the sailing-master of the Ranger was ordered to re- 
ply, ' The American Continental ship Ranger ! We are waiting for 
you — come on !' The national flag was floating from either ship in 
the broad beams of the level sun, now not more than an hour from 
setting, and Jones, ordering his helm up, ran across his enemy's bow, 
pouring in his broadside. The compliment was returned at the 
Drake's earliest convenience, and the two vessels ran broadside and 
broadside, rapidly exchanging fires, for more than an hour. At the 
end of this time the Drake was greatly in a dilapidated condition, and 
her captain having received a bullet through the brain, which instant- 
ly killed him, the crew surrendered." 

After this, war broke out between France and England, and the 
former power openly appearing as an ally of the Americans, a fleet 
was fitted out from a French port, and placed in the command of 
Paul Jones, for the purpose of continuing offensive operations on the 
British coast. The vessel of which Jones had the personal command, 
was the celebrated Bon-homme Richard — or Poor Richard. His first 
attempt of note was one of the most audacious projects on record. 
His intention was to land at Leith, the port of Edinburgh, itself, and, 
not only to lay the place under contribution, but to seize the shipping 
he might find in the Firth. "He had hopes that even the Scottish 
capital might be frightened into a temporary submission. This was 
a highly characteristic project, and one worthy the military audacity 
of the man. Its great merit in addition to its boldness and import- 
ance, was its strong probability of success. 



262 PAUL JONES. 

" On the lGtb of September, the fleet was seen from Edinburgh 
Castle making its way up the Firth. The country was immediately 
seized with a panic; a hasty attempt was made to erect batteries at 
Leith, and arms were distributed from Edinburgh Castle to the trades. 
The greatest consternation prevailed in all the neighboring towns. 
The Richard in one of her tacks stood within a mile of Kirkaldy, much to 
the dismay of the inhabitants, The ships had got up as high a3 Inch- 
keith, when a squall struck the ships, and induced an order for the people 
to return from the boats. Jones held on against the wind as long as 
possible, but the squall turning to a gale, he was obliged to tack ship 
and run out of the Firth. Before it abated, there had been plenty of 
time for the enemy to make formidable preparation to meet him, and 
he was reluctantly compelled to abandon the enterprise. Ilad not the 
gale prevented his reaching Leith on the 17th, there is little doubt 
that the surprise would have been complete, and the daring exploit 
eminently successful. 

" Jones immediately projected an attack upon some other of the 
enemy's towns, but his French coadjutors fearing capture if they re- 
mained on the coast, and knowing that the period for the termination 
of the cruise at Texel had arrived, threatened to abandon him unless 
he left the coast at once. Captain Jones, with his knowledge of the 
coast and his daring character, would undoubtedly have distressed the 
enemy immensely had he been accompanied by cool yet brave spirits, 
like himself; but with disobedient and lukewarm backers, he had 
nothing left to do but to make the best of his way for the Texel. 

"But the cruise was not to end thus. It was an inauspicious com- 
mencement ; but despite the treachery of friends, it was destined to 
end in a blaze of glory, and to gain for Captain Jones a renown as 
imperishable as the foundations of the continent. In an old, ill-fated, 
half-armed and badly manned ship, Jones fought a battle which, for 
stubborn courage and heroic daring, accompanied by triumphant suc- 
cess, has not a parallel in ancient or modern sea-fights. The battle 
between the Bon Homme Richard, and the Serapis, stands out on 
the canvas of naval combats with a startling distinctness, and is sur- 
rounded with an atmosphere of romantic interest. Had Jones done 
nothing but fight this battle, it would place his name on the list of 
naval commanders high up with the bravest spirits the world Iiaa 
ever known. 



PAUL JONES. 263 

"Jones employed himself in destroying colliers bound to London, 
■antil the 23d of September, when he fell in with the Baltic fleet of 
forty-one sail, under the convoy of the Serapis, a new ship of forty- 
four guns, and the Countess of Scarborough of twenty guns. On 
this day the Alliance joined company again, which was a real misfor- 
tune to Jones. The signal to form line of battle was made when the 
fleet was discovered,, but Landais, as usual, paid no attention to it. 
Mr. Hunt, second lieutenant of the Bon Homme Bi chard, was then 
absent with sixteen men in a pilot-boat in chase of a brig. On per- 
ceiving the American ships, the fleet made all sail for the land, while 
the cruisers manoeuvred to place themselves between the fleet and 
the enemy. But the narrative of the crowning event of Jones's life 
should be given in his own words. 

" Earnest as I was for the action, I could not reach the commo- 
dore's ship until seven in the evening, being then within pistol-shot, 
when he hailed the Bon Homme Richard. We answered him by 
firing a whole broadside. The battle being thus begun, continued 
with unremitted fury. Every method was practised on both sides to 
gain an advantage and rake each other, and I must confess that the 
enemy's ship being much more manageable than the Bon Homme 
Richard, gained several times an advantageous position in spite of 
my best endeavors to prevent it. As I had to deal with an enemy 
of vastly superior force, I was under the necessity of closing with 
him to prevent the advantage which he had over me in point of ma- 
noeuvre. It was my intention to lay the Bon Homme Richard athwart 
the enemy's bow, but as that operation required great dexterity 
in the management of both sails and helm, and some of our braces 
being shot away, it did not exactly succeed to my wish. The ene- 
my's bowsprit, however, came over the Bon Homme Richard's poop, 
and I made both ships fast together in that situation, which, by the 
action of the wind on the enemy's sails, forced her stern close to the 
Bon Homme Richard's bow, so that the ships lay square alongside 
of each other, the yards being all entangled, and the cannon of each 
ship touching the opponent's. When this position took place it was 
eight o'clock, previous to which the Bon Homme Richard had re- 
ceived several eighteen-pound shot below the water, and leaked bad- 
ly. My battery of twelve pounders, on which I placed my chief de- 
pendence, being commanded by Lieutenant Dale and Colonel Weibert, 



264 PAUL JONES. 

and manned principally by American seamen and French volunteers, 
was entirely silenced and abandoned. As to the six old eighteen 
pounders, which formed the battery of the lower gun-deck, they did 
no real service except firing eight shots in all. Two or three of them 
burst at the first fire, killing almost all the men who were stationed 
to manage them. Before this time, Colonel Chamillard, who com- 
manded twenty men on the poop, had abandoned that station, hav- 
ing lost some of his men. I had now only two pieces of cannon 
(nine pounders) on the quarter-deck that were not silenced, and not 
one of the heavier cannon was fired during the rest of the engage- 
ment. 

" The purser, Mr. Mease, who commanded the guns on the quarter- 
deck, being dangerously wounded in the head, I was obliged to fill 
his place, and with great difficulty rallied a few men, and shifted over 
one of the lee quarter-deck guns, so that we afterwards played three 
pieces of nine-pounders upon the enemy. The tops alone seconded 
the fire of this little battery, and held out bravely during the whole 
of the action, especially the maintop, where Lieutenant Stack com- 
manded. I directed the fire of one of the three cannon against the 
mainmast, with double-headed shot, while the other two were ex- 
ceedingly well served with grape and canister shot, to silence the 
enemy's musketry and clear her decks, which was at last effected. 
The enemy were, as I have since understood, on the instant of calling 
for quarters, when the cowardice or treachery of three of my under- 
officers induced them to call to the enemy. The English commodore 
asked me if I demanded quarters, and I having answered him in the 
most determined negative, they renewed the battle with double fury. 
They were unable to stand the deck; but the fire of their cannon, 
especially the lower battery, which was entirely formed of ten-poun- 
ders, was incessant; both ships were set on fire in various places, and 
the scene was dreadful bey®nd the reach of language. To account 
for the timidity of my three under-ofiicers, I mean the gunner, the 
carpenter, and the master-at-arms, I must observe, that the two first 
were slightly wounded, and, as the ship had received various shot 
under water, and one of the pumps being shot away, the carpenter 
expressed his fears that she would sink, and the other two concluded 
that she was sinking, which occasioned the gunner to run aft on the 
poop, without my knowledge, to strike the colors. Fortunately for 



PAUL JONES. 265 

me, a cannon-ball had done that before, by carrying away the ensign- 
staff; he was therefore reduced to the necessity of sinking, as he sup- 
posed, or of calling for quarter, and he preferred the latter. 

" All this time the Bon Homme Richard had sustained the action 
alone, and the enemy, though much superior in force, would have 
been very glad to have got clear, as appears by their own acknow- 
ledgments, and by their having let go an anchor the instant that I 
laid them on board, by which means they would have escaped, had I 
not made them well fast to the Bon Homme Richard. 

"At last, at half-past nine o'clock, the Alliance appeared, and I 
now thought the battle at an end ; but, to my utter astonishment, 
he discharged a broadside full into the stern of the Bon Homme 
Richard. We called to him for God's sake to forbear firing into the 
Bon Homme Richard; yet they passed along the off-side of the ship, 
and continued firing. There was no possibility of his mistaking the 
enemy's ships for the Bon Homme Richard, there being the most 
essential difference in their appearance and construction. Besides, it 
was then full moonlight, and the sides of the Bon Homme Richard 
were all black, while the sides of the prize were all yellow. Tet, for 
the greater security, I showed the signal of our reconnoissance, by 
putting out three lanterns, one at the head, another at the stern, and 
the third in the middle, in a horizontal line. Every tongue cried 
that he was firing into the wrong ship, but nothing availed ; he pass- 
ed round, firing into the Bon Homme Richard's head, stern, and 
broadside, and by one of his volleys killed several of my best men, 
and mortally wounded a good officer on the forecastle. My situation 
was now really deplorable ; the Bon Homme Richard received vari- 
ous shot under water from the Alliance ; the leak gained on the 
pumps, and the fire increased much on board both ships. Some offi- 
cers persuaded me to strike, of whose courage and good sense I en- 
tertained a high opinion. My treacherous master-at-arms let loose 
all my prisoners without my knowledge, and my prospects became 
gloomy indeed. I would not, however, give up the point. The 
enemy's mainmast began to shake, their firing decreased fast, ours 
rather increased, and the British colors were struck at half an hour 
past ten o'clock. 

" This prize proved to be the British ship of war the Serapis, a 
new ship of forty-four guns, built on the most approved construction, 



266 PAUL JONES. 

with two complete batteries, one of them of eighteen-pounders, and 
commanded by the brave Commodore Richard Pearson. I had yet 
two enemies to encounter, far more formidable than the Britons, — 
I mean fire and water. The Serapis was attacked only by the first,g 
but the Bon Homme Richard was assailed by both ; there was five 
feet of water in the hold, and though it was moderate from the ex- 
plosion of so much gunpowder, yet the three pumps that remained 
could with difficulty only keep the water from gaining. The fire 
broke out in various parts of the ship in spite of all the water that 
could be thrown in to quench it, and at length broke out as low as 
the powder-magazine, and within a few inches of the powder. In 
that dilemma I took out the powder upon deck, ready to be thrown 
overboard at the last extremity, and it was ten o'clock the next day 
(the 24th) 7 before the fire was entirely extinguished. With respect 
to the situation of the Bon Homme Richard, the rudder was cut en- 
tirely off, the stern-frame and transoms were almost entirely cut 
away, and the timbers by the lower deck, especially from the main- 
mast towards the stern, being greatly decayed with age, were man- 
gled beyond my power of description, and a person must have been 
an eye-witness to form a just idea of the tremendous scene of carnage, 
wreck, and ruin, which everywhere appeared. Humanity cannot but 
recoil from the prospect of such finished horror, and lament that war 
should be capable of producing such fatal consequences." 

Upon examination it was found impossible to save the Richard 
from sinking, and she was accordingly abandoned. During the con- 
test with the Serapis, the Pallas engaged the Countess of Scarborough, 
and took her after an hour's action. 

" As to Captain Landais, of the Alliance, if he is not, in justice to 
human nature, looked upon as insane, and thus not really responsible 
for his actions, he must be considered as a traitor of the blackest dye, 
and deserving of being run up at the yard-arm of his ship, with a 
short shrift, and his memory left to the execration of all mankind. 
This man appears to have added the basest malignity to jealousy, and 
it was believed by some of the officers that his intention was to have 
killed Jones, or forced him to surrender, when the Alliance would 
have the credit of conquering the Serapis and retaking the Richard. 
From the occurrences of his after life, the presumption is that he was 



RICHARD DALE. 267 

suffering under a mental obliquity nearly amounting to insanity. 
Common charity obliges us to consider such, as the case." 

After this Jones was not engaged in any remarkable exploits, the 
difficulty of finding vessels suitable to his purpose, being a great ob- 
stacle. After a great many disappointments and procrastinations in 
this way, the close of the Avar effectually put an end to his hopes of 
greater achievements. Some time after the war he was induced to 
go to Eussia to serve under Catharine on the Black sea. He accept- 
ed the invitation, and crossing the Baltic sea in an open boat, being 
four days in the passage, he was received in St. Petersburgh, with 
considerable enthusiasm, his romantic voyage across the Baltic adding 
much to the interest with which he was greeted. He remained in 
this service for fifteen months, where he was engaged in several en- 
counters, and won much honor, but the dullness of the prince under 
whom he served, limited his field of action, and prevented the enact- 
ment of deeds so brilliant as those which characterized his early ca- 
reer. He returned to France, and there died. 



COMMODORE RICHARD DALE. 

RiCHAim Dale at an early age conceived a passion for the sea, and 
when only twelve years old he made his first voyage. After this he 
became apprenticed to the merchant service. During his apprentice- 
ship he met with two narrow escapes, which may be thought worthy 
of notice. On one occasion he fell from the spars, stowed on the bel- 
fry, into the vessel's hold, hitting the kelson, a distance of near twenty 
feet ; escaping, however, without material injury. A great danger 
was incurred at another time. While the vessel to which he be- 
longed was running off the wind, with a stiff breeze, Dale was acci- 
dentally knocked overboard by the jib-sheets, and was not picked up 
without great difficulty, he was an hour in the water, sustaining him- 
. self by swimming, and he ever spoke of the incident as one of more 
peril than any other in a A^ery perilous career. 

Shortly after this the war of the Revolution broke out. .and Dale 
was entered as a lieutenant on board of a light cruiser. While em- 
12 



26'8 RICHARD DALE. 

ployed on this he fell into the hands of a British frigate, and was con- 
veyed into Norfolk as a prisoner. Here he was thrown into a prison- 
ship, and he found himself in the midst of loyalists : one of these 
took a strong interest in Dale and attempted to convert him to the 
cause of the king. At that time great stress was laid on loyalty, and' 
many worthy men were so far blinded in their adherence to the king, 
that they looked with horror upon the "rebels." Not entirely free 
from prejudices in favor of the divine right of sovereigns, Dale began 
to waver, and to yield to the artful persuasions and arguments of the 
loyal gentleman. In the end he consented to accompany his friend 
on a cruise against the vessels of the state. An occasion soon offered, 
and in the contest Dale received a wound in the head which laid him 
up for some weeks, during which time he had abundant leisure to re- 
flect on the false step into which he had been persuaded, and to form 
certain healthful resolutions for the future. In his own words, in 
speaking of this error of his early life — he was not yet twenty — he 
determined " never again to put himself in the way of the bullets of 
his own country." This resolve, however, it was necessary to con- 
ceal until an opportunity was afforded him to join the flag of his 
country. While on a cruising expedition with his loyalist friend, he 
was captured by an American vessel, and he immediately volunteered 
under the national flag. But he was shortly after doomed again to 
captivity, being captured by an English frigate. The frigate placed 
her prize, with the prisoners confined on board, under a small crew, 
with directions to follow her. But in the night they became sepa- 
rated, and the captives rose upon their conquerors, retook the brig, 
and carried her into Baltimore. 

Once more he put out to sea in the same vessel, the Lexington — 
and the very day after she sailed encountered an English vessel. The 
Lexington was short of shot and powder, and mistaking the charac- 
ter of the English vessel, which was supposed to be a cutter until 
the very moment the contest commenced, when she proved to be a 
man-of-war, the consequence was, that overcome by a superior force, 
and their ammunition exhausted, the Lexington was for the second 
time captured, and Dale for the third time a prisoner. The prize WB8 
removed to Blymouth, the prisoners examined, and thrown into Mill 
Prison on a charge of high treason. Here they were doomed to a 
rigorous and painful confinement "So severe" says Cooper "were 



RICHARD DALE. 269 

the privations of the Americans on this occasion, that, in pure 
hunger, they caught a stray dog one day, skinned, cooked and ate 
him to satisfy their cravings for food." But their situation eventually 
attracted the attention of the humane, and their sufferings were re- 
lieved. But time passing on, and despairing of ever being freed by 
exchange, they resolved to attempt an escape. We quote farther 
from Mr. Cooper. 

" A suitable place was selected, and a hole under a wall was com- 
menced. The work required secrecy and time. The earth was re- 
moved, little by little in the pockets of the captives, care being had 
to conceal the place, until a hole of sufficient size was made to per- 
mit the body of a man to pa^s through. It was a tedious process, for 
the only opportunity which occurred to empty their pockets, was 
while the Americans were exercising on the walls of their prison for 
a short period each day. By patience and perseverance they accom- 
plished their purpose, however, every hour dreading exposure and 
defeat. 

" When all was ready they passed through the hole and escaped. 
This was in February, 1778. The party wandered about the country 
in company, and by night, for more than a week, suffering all sorts 
of privations, until it was resolved to take the wiser course of sepa- 
rating. Dale, accompanied by one other, found his way to London, 
hotly pursued. At one time the two lay under some straw in an 
out-house, while the premises were searched by those who were in 
quest of them. On reaching London, Dale and his companion im- 
mediately got on board a vessel about to sail for Dunkirk. A press- 
gang unluckily took this craft in its rounds, and suspecting the true 
object of the fugitives, they were arrested, and, their characters being 
ascertained, they were sent back to Mill prison in disgrace. 

" This was the commencement of a captivity far more tedious than 
the former. In the first place they were condemned to forty day's 
imprisonment in the black hole, as a punishment for the late escape ; 
and, released from this durance, they were deprived of many of their 
former indulgencies. Dale himself took his revenge in singing " rebel 
songs" and paid a second visit to the black hole as the penalty. This 
state of things, with alternations of favor and punishment, continued 
quite a year, when Dale, singly, succeeded in again effecting his great 
object of getting free. 



270 RICHARD DALE. 

" The mode in which this second escape was made is known ; but the 
manner by which he procured the means he refused to disclose to his 
dying day. At all events, he obtained a lull suit of British uniform, at- 
tired in which, and seizing a favorable opportunity, he boldly walked 
past all the sentinels and got off. That some one was connected with 
this escape who might suffer by his revelations is almost certain ; and 
it is a trait in his character worthy of notice, that he kept this secret, 
with scrupulous fidelity, for forty-seven years. It is not known that 
he ever divulged it even to any individual in his own family. 

"Rendered wary by experience, Dale now proceeded with great 
address and caution. He probably had money as well as clothes. 
At all events, he went to London, found means to procure a passport, 
and left the country for France, unsuspected and undetected. On 
reaching a friendly soil, he hastened to l'Orient and joined the force 
then equipping under Paul Jones. This commander obtained a com- 
mission for Dale, and made him the first lieutenant of his own ship." 

When Dale effected this last escape, he was but twenty-three 
years of age, having been made four times a prisoner, and effecting 
his escape three different times, and under very extraordinary cir- 
cumstances. So much variety of adventure at so early an age, gives 
a peculiar charm to his history. 

He accompanied Jones in his expedition to the Scottish coast, and 
was appointed to command the boats that were to land in the cele- 
brated attempt to make a descent upon Leith, but which as our rea- 
dors will remember, was prevented by a sudden gale. Still continu- 
ing with Jones, he did signal service in the renowned battle between 
the Bon Homme Richard and the Serapis, which the reader will find 
described in the article on Paul Jones. Jones often commended his 
deportment during the battle. 

" When the cheerful intelligence was received that the enemy had 
struck, Dale immediately demanded Jones' permission to take pos- 
session of the prize. It was granted ; and had he never manifested 
any other act of personal intrepidity, his promptitude on this occa- 
sion, and the manner he went to work to attain his purpose, would 
have shown him to be a man above personal considerations, when 
duty or honor pointed out his course. The main yard of the Serapis 
was hanging a-cock-bill over the side of the American ship. The 
brace was shot away, and the pendant hung within reach. Seizing 



FRANCIS MARION. 271 

the latter, Dale literally swung himself off, and alighted above on the 
quarter deck of the Sefapis. Here he found no one but the brave 
Pearson, who had struck his own flag ; but the men below were still 
ignorant of the act. We may form an opinion of the risk the young 
man ran, in thus boarding his enemy at night, and in the confusion 
of such a combat, for the English were still firing below, by the fact 
that Mr. Mayrant, a young man of South Carolina, and a midship- 
man of the Bon Homme Richard, who led a party after the lieutenant, 
was actually run through the thigh by a boarding pike, and by the 
hands of a man in the waist below." 

After this engagement, Dale left Paul Jones, and was subsequent- 
ly lieutenant to Capt. Nicholson of the Trumbull. While on this 
ship, it was attacked by two English vessels of far superior weight 
and force, and compelled to yield, thus again throwing Dale into cap- 
tivity. But on this occasion he had no reason to complain of his 
treatment, and was soon exchanged. After this he advanced rapidly 
in his profession, and in the war with Tripoli attained the rank of 
commodore. Upon his return from the expedition to the Mediterra- 
nean, he retired from tha r.avy. 



FRANCIS MARION. 

Francis Marion, the renowned partisan of the South, was born 
near Georgetown, in South Carolina, in 1732. We take some pas- 
sages illustrative of his career, from his life, by W. G-ihnore Simms. 
He early conceived a passion for the sea, and when scarcely sixteen, 
he embarked in a small vessel for the West Indies. The ship in 
which he sailed was no doubt equally frail and small. She founder- 
ed at sea, in consequence of injuries received from the stroke of a 
whale, of the thorn-back species. So suddenly did she sink, that her 
crew, only six in number, had barely time to save themselves. They 
escaped to the jolly-boat, saving nothing but their fives. They took 
with them neither water nor provisions ; and for six days, hopeless 
of succor, they lay tossing to and fro, upon the cold and cheerless 
ocean. A dog, which swam to them feom the sinking boat, was sa- 



272 FRANCIS MARION. 

crificed to their hunger. His raw flesh was their only food, his 
blood their ouly drink, during this distressing period. Two of their 
number perished, miserably. The survivors, on the seventh day, 
were found and taken up by a passing vessel, nourished carefully, 
and finally restored to their homes. Francis Marion was one of these 
survivors. The small and puny boy lived through the trials and suf- 
ferings under which the strong men perished. So intense were their 
sufferings, so terrible their trials, that it will not greatly task the im- 
agination to recognise in the preservation of the youth — looking to 
his future usefulness — the agency of a special Providence. The boy 
was preserved for other times and other fortunes ; and, in returning 
to his mother, was perhaps better prepared to heed her entreaties, 
that he should abandon all idea of an element, from which his escape 
had been so hazardous and narrow. 

After this adventure, his career, until the breaking out of the 
Cherokee war, was that of a simple farmer. In this war he acted 
as a volunteer, and greatly signalized himself in leading the forlorn 
hope at the Battle of Etchou. This detachment consisted of thirty 
men, whose duty it was to force the position of the foe on the brow 
of a hill, from which the Provincial troops were subjected to a murder- 
ous fire. The ascent of the hill was by means of a gloom defile, 
through which the little band, headed gallantly by their leader, ad- 
vanced with due rapidity. Scarcely had the detachment penetrated 
the defile, when the war-whoop gave the signal. The savages, still 
concealed, poured in a deadly fire, by which no less than twenty- 
one of this fated band were prostrated. Fortunately, their leader 
was not among them. The residue were saved from destruction by 
the proximity of the advance, whose hurried approach, while giving 
them safety, brought on the main action. 

Engaged in rural and domestic occupations', we hear no more of 
Marion, after the close of the Cherokee war, until the beginning of 
1775. At the first breaking out of the War of the Revolution, he 
took an active part in it. The first blow struck in the South, was 
the taking of Fort Johnson ; which was accomplished by Col. Moul- 
trie, under whom Marion, now a captain, served with honor. In the 
gallant and heroic defence of Fort Moultrie he took a conspicuous 
part, and was a sharer in its dangers and its honors. 

At the siege of Charleston it was the great good fortune of the 



FRANCIS MARION. 273 

state, that Marion was not among those who fell into captivity at the 
fall of the city, although he was saved by an accident, which, at the 
time it happened was greatly deplored by him. 

" Dining with a party of friends at a house in Tradd-street, the 
host, with the mistaken hospitality which has too frequently changed 
a virtue to a vice, turned the key upon his guests, to prevent escape, 
till each individual should be gorged with wine. Though an amiable 
man, Marion was a strictly temperate one. He was not disposed to 
submit to this too common form of social tyranny ; yet not willing 
to resent the breach of propriety by converting the assembly into a 
bull-ring, he adopted a middle course, which displayed equally the 
gentleness and firmness of his temper. Opening a window, he cool- 
ly threw himself into the street. He was unfortunate in the at- 
tempt ; the apartment was on the second story, the height consider- 
able, and the adventure cost him a broken ancle. The injury was a 
severe and shocking one, and, for the time, totally unfitted him for 
service. He left the city in a fitter, while the passage to the country 
still remained open for retreat, in obedience to an order of General 
Lincoln for all the idle mouths, ' all supernumerary officers, and all 
officers unfit for duty.' Marion retired to his residence in St. John's 
parish. Here, suffering in mind and body, he awaited with impa- 
tience the progress of events, with which, however much he might 
sympathize, he could not share. His humiliation at this unavoida- 
ble but melancholy inaction, may be imagined from what we know 
of his habits and his pariotism." 

After the surrender of Charleston, the country adjoining was over- 
run by British troops, while there was no one to head a resistance 
against them. Moultrie and others were prisoners of war, while 
Sumter, Gov. Eutledge, and Horry, flew to the north in order to 
stimulate the energies of the people in that quarter, and gain re- 
cruits. 

" Marion, meanwhile, incapable of present flight, was compelled to 
take refuge in the swamp and forest. He was too conspicuous a "per- 
son, had made too great a figure in previous campaigns, and his mili- 
tary talents were too well known and too highly esteemed, not to 
render him an object of some anxiety as well to friends as foes. Still 
suffering from the hurts received in Charleston, with bloody and ma- 
lignant enemies all around him, his safety depended on his secrecy 



274 FRANCIS MARION. 

and obscurity alone. Fortunately he had ' won golden opinions from 
all sorts of people.' He had friends among all classes, who did not 
permit themselves to sleep while he was in danger. Their activity 
supplied the loss of his own. They watched while he slept. They 
assisted his feebleness. In the moment of alarm, he was sped from 
house to house, from tree to thicket, from the thicket to the swamp. 
His ' hair-breadth 'scapes,' under these frequent exigencies, were no 
doubt, among the most interesting adventures of his life, furnishing 
rare material, could they be procured for the poet and romancer. 
Unhappily, while the chronicles show the frequent emergency winch 
attended his painful condition, they furnish nothing more. "We are 
without details. The melancholy baldness and coldness with which 
they narrate events upon which one would like to linger is absolutely 
humbling to the imagination ; which, kindled by the simple historical 
outline, looks in vain for the satisfaction of those doubts and inquiries, 
those hopes and fears, which the provoking narrative inspires only to 
defraud. How would some old inquisitive Froissart have dragged by 
frequent inquiry from contemporaneous lips, the particular fact, the 
whole adventure, step by step, item by item, — the close pursuit, the 
narrow escape, — and all the long train of little, but efficient circum- 
stances, by which the story would have been made unique, with all 
its rich and numerous details I These, the reader must supply from 
his own resources of imagination. He must conjecture for himself 
the casual warning brought to the silent thicket, by the devoted 
friend, the constant woman, or the humble slave ; the midnight bay 
of the watch dog, or the whistle of the scout ; or the sudden shot, 
from friend or foe, by which the fugitive is counselled to hurry to his 
den. A thousand events arise to the imagination as likely to have 
occurred to our partisan, in his hours of feebleness and danger, from 
the rapid cavalry of Tarleton, or the close and keen pursuit of the re- 
vengeful Tories. To what slight circumstances has he been indebted 
for his frequent escape ! What humble agents have been commis- 
sioned by Providence to save his life, that was destined to be so pre- 
cious to his country's liberties! 

" How long he remained in this situation is not exactly known, — 
probably several months. As soon as he was able to mount his 
horse, he collected a few friends, and set out for North Carolina. A 



FRANCIS MARION. 275 

Continental force was on its way from Virginia, under Baron De Kalb. 
His purpose was to join it." 

Shortly after this, Marion formed his celebrated brigade with which 
he did such service to the cause. There was no organized army in 
the South after the defeat of Gates, and Marion with his independent 
militia, consisting of nevermore than two hundred and often less than 
fifty men, was the sole power with which the royalists had to con- 
tend, and yet this insignificant force was of the greatest possible ter- 
ror to the British officers. His mode of warfare suited the charac- 
teristics of his men, the weakness of his force, and the nature of the 
country. By numerous scouts he was always possessed of the move- 
ments of the foe, and he would sally out suddenly from his retreats 
in the swamp and the forests, and by falling on detachments and cut- 
ting them off from the main army; by wresting their supplies from 
their escorts ; by stealing cautiously upon their encampments and 
doing fearful execution, and escaping ere they could form to resist the 
attack ; by the celerity of his movements that would bring him in 
contact with the enemy in one place, and ere the news was known, 
defeat another body fifty or a hundred miles off; by such ceaseless 
activity and impetuous energy did he become the terror of the roy- 
alists. In vain, were armies large enough to crush him, sent in his 
pursuit. He always avoided engaging them in set battles, but by 
hovering on their route, cutting off detachments and defeating them, 
attacking them by detail, leading them into ambuscades, he not only 
preserved himself but did fearful execution on them. Unfortunately, 
that while we have brief and sententious accounts of many of these 
encounters, yet we are unacquainted with their details. In such a 
warfare, numerous and wild must have been the adventures, thrilling- 
ly entrancing the vicissitudes, dangers and hardships, but history is 
unfortunately most meagre and barren in relation to them. 

Nothing could have been more romantic and picturesque than 
Marion's career in the thickets and swamps of Carolina, but while en- 
camped at Snow's Island, it received its highest color of romance. 

" In this snug and impenetrable fortress, he reminds us very much 
of the ancient feudal baron of France and Germany, who, perched on 
castled eminence, looked down with the complacency of an eagle 
from his eyrie, and marked all below him 'for his own. The resem- 
liknce is good in all respects but one, The plea and justification of 



276 FRANOIS MARION. 

Marion are complete. His warfare was legitimate. He was no 
mountain robber, — no selfish and reckless ruler, thirsting for spoil and 
delighting inhumanly in blood. The love of liberty, the defence of 
country, the protection of the feeble, the maintenance of humanity 
and all its dearest interests, against its tyrant — these were the noble 
incentives which strengthened him in his stronghold, made it terrible 
in the eyes of his enemy, and sacred in those of his countrymen. 
Here he lay, grimly watching for the proper time and opportunity 
when to sally forth and strike. His position, so far as it sheltered 
him from his enemies, and gave him facilities for their overthrow, 
was wonderfully like that of the knightly robber of the Middle Ages. 
True, his camp was without its castle — but it had its fosse and keep 
— its draw-bridge and port-cullis. There were no towers frowning 
in stone and iron — but there were tall pillars of pine and cypress, 
from the waving tops of which the warders looked out, and gave 
warning of the foe or the victim. No cannon thundered from his 
walls ; no knights, shining in armor, sallied forth to the tourney. He 
was fond of none of the mere pomps of war. He held no revels — 
'drank no wine through the helmet barred,' and quite unlike the 
baronial ruffian of the Middle Ages, was strangely indifferent to the 
feasts of gluttony and swilled insolence. He found no joy in the 
pleasures of the table. Art had done little to increase the comforts 
or the securities of his fortress. It was one, complete to his hands, 
from those of nature — such an one as must have delighted the gene- 
rous English outlaw of Sherwood forest — isolated by deep ravines and 
rivers, a dense forest of mighty trees, and interminable undergrowth. 
The vine and briar guarded his passes. The laurel and the shrub, the 
vine and sweet scented jessamine, roofed his dwelling, and clambered 
up between his clo'sed eyelids and the stars. Obstructions, scarcely 
penetrable by any foe, crowded the pathways to his tent ; — and no 
footstep, not practised in the secret, and ' to the manner born,' might 
pass unchallenged to his midnight rest. The swamp was his moat ; 
his bulwarks were the deep ravines, which, watched by sleepless 
rifles, were quite as impregnable as the castles on the Rhine. Here, 
in the possession of his fortress, the partisan slept secure. In the de- 
fence of such a place, in the emploj'ment of such material as he had 
to use, Marion stands out alone in our written history, as the great 
master of that sort of strategy, which renders the untaught militia- 



FRANCIS MARION. 27^ 

man in his native thickets, a match' for the best drilled veteran of 
Europe. Marion seemed to possess an intuitive knowledge of his 
men and material, by which, without effort, he was led to the most 
judicious modes for their exercise. He beheld, at a glance, the evils 
or advantages of a position. By a nice adaptation of his resources to 
his situation, he promptly supplied its deficiencies and repaired its de- 
fects. Till this was done, he did not sleep ; — he relaxed in none of 
his endeavors. By patient toil, by keenest vigilance, by a genius pe- 
culiarly his own, he reconciled those inequalities of fortune or circum- 
stance, under which ordinary men sit down in despair. Surrounded 
by superior foes, he showed no solicitude on this account. If his po- 
sition was good, their superiority gave him little concern. He soon 
contrived to lessen it, by cutting off their advanced parties, their 
scouts or foragers, and striking at their detachments in detail. It was 
on their own ground, in their immediate presence, nay, in the very 
midst of them, that he frequently made himself a home. Better live 
upon foes than upon friends, was his maxim ; and this practice of 
living amongst foes was the great school by which his people were 
taught vigilance. 

" The adroitness and address of Marion's captainship were never 
more fully displayed than when he kept Snow's Island; sallying forth, 
as occasion offered, to harass the superior foe, to cut off his convoys, 
or to break up, before they could well embody, the gathering and un- 
disciplined Tories. His movements were marked by equal prompti- 
tude and weariness. He suffered no risks from a neglect of proper 
precaution. His habits of circumspection and resolve ran together in 
happy unison. His plans, carefully considered beforehand, were al- 
ways timed with the happiest reference to the condition and feelings 
of his men. To prepare that condition, and to train those feelings, 
were the chief employment of his repose. He knew his game, and 
how it should be played, before a step was taken or a weapon drawn. 
When he himself, or any of his parties, left the island, upon an expe- 
dition, they advanced along no beaten paths. They made them as 
they went. He had the Indian faculty in perfection, of gathering his 
course from the sun, from the stars, from the bark and the tops of 
trees, and such other natural guides, as the woodman acquires only 
through long and watchful experience. Many of the trails, thua 
opened by him, upon these expeditions, are now the ordinary ave- 



278 FRANCIS MARION. 

nues of the country. On starting, he almost invariably struck into 
the woods, and seeking the heads of the larger water courses, crossed 
them at their first and small beginnings. He destroyed the bridges 
.where he could. He preferred fords. The former not only facilitated 
the progress of less fearless enemies-, but apprised them of his own 
approach. If speed was essential, a more direct, but not less cautious 
route was pursued. The stream was crossed sometimes where it was 
deepest. On such occasions the party swam their horses, Marion 
himself leading the way, though he himself was unable to swim. He 
rode a famous horse called Ball, which he had taken from a loyalist 
captain of that name. This animal was a sorrel, of high, generous 
blood, and took the water as if born to it. The horses of the brigade 
soon learned to follow him as naturally as their riders followed his 
master. There was no waiting for pontoons and boats. Had there 
been there would have been no surprises. 

" The secrecy with which Marion conducted his expeditions was, 
perhaps, one of the reasons for their frequent success. He entrusted 
his schemes to nobody, not even his most confidential officers. He 
consulted with them respectfully, heard them patiently, weighed their 
suggestions, and silently approached his conclusions. They knew his 
determinations only from his actions. He left no track behind him, 
if it were possible to avoid it. He was often vainly hunted after by 
his own detachments. He was more apt at finding them, then they 
him. His scouts were taught a peculiar and shrill whistle, which, at 
night, could be heard at a most astonishing distance. We are re- 
reminded of the signal of Eoderick Dhu :— 

' He whistled shrill, 

And he was answered from Ihe hill, 
Wild as the scream of the curlew, 
From crag to crag, the signal flew.' 

His expeditions were frequently long, and his men, hurrying forth 
without due preparation, not unfrequently suffered much privation 
from want of food. To guard against this danger, it was their habit 
to watch his cook. If they saw him unusually busied in preparing 
supplies of the rude, portable food, which it was Marion's custom to 
' 3arry on such occasions, they knew what was before them, and pro- 
vided themselves accordingly. In no other way could they arrive at 
their general's intentions. His favorite tune for moving was with the 



FRANCIS MARION. 279 

setting sun, and then it was known that the march would continue 
all night. Before striking any sudden blow, he has been known to 
march sixty or seventy miles, taking no other food in twenty-four 
hours, than a meal of cold potatoes and a draught of cold water. The 
latter might have been repeated. This was truly a Spartan process 
for acquiring vigor. Its results were a degree of patient hardihood, 
as well in officers as men, to which few soldiers in any periods have 
attained. These marches were made in all seasons. His men were 
badly clothed in homespun, a light wear which afforded little warmth. 
They slept in the open air, and frequently without a blanket. Marion 
himself, winter and summer, had slept without the luxury of a blanket. 
He had but one, on taking command of the 'Brigade,' and this he lost 
by accident. Sleeping soundly, after one of his forced marches, upon 
a bed of pine straw, it took fire, his blanket was destroyed, and he 
himself had an escape so narrow, that one half of the cap he wore 
was shrivelled up by the flames. His food was hominy or potatoes ; 
his drink, vinegar and water, of which he was fond. He had neither 
tea nor coffee, and seldom tasted wine or spirits. Their ordinary 
food consisted of sweet potatoes, garnished, on fortunate occasions, 
with lean beef. Salt was only to be had when they succeeded in the 
capture of an enemy's commissariat ; and even when this most neces- 
sary of all human condiments was obtained, the unselfish nature of 
Marion made him indifferent to its use. He distributed it on such 
occasions, in quantities not exceeding a bushel, to each Whig family ; 
and by this patriarchal care, still further endeared himself to the af- 
fection of his followers. 

" The effect of this mode of progress was soon felt by the people of 
the partisan. They quickly sought to emulate the virtues which they 
admired. They became expert in the arts which he practised so suc- 
cessfully. The constant employment winch he gave them, the nature 
of his exactions, taught activity, vigilance, coolness and audacity. 
His first requisition, from his subordinates, was good information. 
His scouts were always his best men. They were generally good 
horsemen, and first rate shots. His cavalry were, in fact, so many 
mounted gunmen, not uniformly weaponed, but carrying the rifle, 
the carbine, or an ordinary fowling-piece, as they happened to pos- 
sess or procure them. Their swords, unless taken from the enemy, 
were made out of mill saws, roughly manufactured by a forest black- 



280 FRANCIS MARION. 

smith. His scouts were out in all directions, and at all hours. They 
did the double duty of patrol and spies. They hovered about the 
posts of the enemy, crouching in the thicket, or darting along the 
plain, picking up prisoners, and information, and spoils together. 
They cut off stragglers, encountered patrols of the foe, and arrested 
his supplies on the way to the garrison. Sometimes a single scout, 
buried in the thick tops of the tree, looked down upon the march of 
his legions, or hung perched over the hostile encampment till it slept, 
then slipping down, stole through the silent host, carrying off a drowsy 
sentinel, or a favorite charger, upon which the daring spy nourished 
conspicuous among his less fortunate companions. The boldness of 
these adventurers was sometimes wonderful almost beyond belief. 
It was the strict result of that confidence in their wonderful skill, 
which the practice of their leader, and his invariable success, naturally- 
taught them to entertain. 

" Thus, while Marion is everywhere regarded as the peculiar repre- 
sentative in the southern states, of the genius of partisan warfare, we 
are surprised, when we would trace, in the pages of the annalist, the 
sources of this fame, to find the details so meagre and so unsatisfac- 
tory. Tradition mumbles over his broken memories, which we vainly 
strive to pluck from his lips and bind together in coherent and satis- 
factory records. The spirited surprise, the happy ambush, the daring 
onslaught, the fortunate escape, these, as they involve no monstrous 
slaughter, no murderous strife of masses, no rending of walled towns 
and sack of cities, the ordinary historian disdains. The military rep- 
utation of Marion consists in the frequent performance of deeds un- 
expectedly, with inferior means, by which the enemy was annoyed 
and dispirited, and the hearts and courage of his countrymen warmed 
into corresponding exertions with his own. To him we owe that the 
fires of patriotism were never extinguished, even in the most disas- 
trous hours, in the low country of South Carolina. He made our 
swamps and forests sacred, as well because of the refuge which they 
gave to the fugitive patriot, as for the frequent sacrifices which they 
enabled him to make, on the alters of liberty and a becoming ven- 
geance. We are in possession of but few of the numerous enterprises 
in which he was engaged ; imperfect memories of the aged give us 
glimpses of deeds, for the particulars of which, we turn in vain to the 
dusty pages of the chronicler. 



FRANCIS MARION. 281 

" It was while Marion was lying with his main force at the camp 
at Snow's Island, that two circumstances occurred which deserve 
mention, as equally serving to illustrate his own and the character of 
the warfare of that time and region. One of the occurrences has long 
been a popular anecdote, and, as such, has been made the subject of 
a very charming picture, which has done something towards giving 
it a more extended circulation.* The other is less generally known, 
but is not less deserving of the popular ear, as distinguishing, quite as 
much as the former, the purity, simplicity, and firmness of Marion's 
character. It appears that, desiring the exchange of prisoners, a 
young officer was dispatched from the British post at Georgetown 
to the swamp encampment of Marion, in order to effect this object. 
He was encountered by one of the scouting parties of the brigade, 
carefully blindfolded, and conducted, by intricate paths, through the 
wild passes, and into the deep recesses of the island. Here, when 
his eyes were uncovered, he found himself surrounded hy a motley 
multitude, which might well have reminded him of Robin Hood and 
his outlaws. The scene was unquestionably wonderfully pictuesque 
and attractive, and our young officer seems to have been duly im- 
pressed by it. He was in the middle of one of those grand natu- 
ral amphitheatres so common in our swamp forests, in which the 
massive pine, the gigantic cypress, and the stately and ever-green 
laurel, streaming with moss, and linking their opposite arms, inflexi- 
bly locked in the embrace of centuries, group together, with elaborate 
limbs and leaves, the chief .and most graceful features of Gothic archi- 
tecture. To these recesses, though the massed foliage of the forest, the 
sunlight came as sparingly, and with rays as mellow and subdued, as 
through the painted window of the old cathedral, falling upon aisle 
and chancel. Scattered around were the forms of those hardy war- 
riors with whom our young officer was yet destined, most probably, 
to meet in conflict, — strange or savage in costume or attitude, — lithe 
and sinewy of frame, — keen-eyed and wakeful at the least alarm. Some 
slept, some joined in boyish sports ; some with foot in stirrup, stood 
ready for the signal to mount and march. The deadly rifle leaned 
against the tree, the sabre depended from its boughs. Steeds were 



* General Marion, in his swamp encampment, inviting the British officer to dinner 
Painted by J. B. White ; engraved by Sartain; published by the Apollo Association. 



*&5'Z FRANCIS MARION. 

browsing in the shade, with loosened bits, but saddled, ready at the 
first sound of the bugle to skirr through brake and thicket. Distant 
fires, dimly burning, sent up their faint white smokes, that, mingling 
with the thick forest tops, which they could not pierce, were scarce 
distinguishable from the long grey moss which made the old trees 
look like so many ancient patriarchs. But the most remarkable ob- 
ject in all this scene was Marion himself. Could it be that the per- 
son who stood before our visitor— ' in stature of the smallest size, 
thin, as well as low' * — was that of the redoubted chief, whose sleep- 
less activity and patriotic zeal had carried terror to the gates of 
Charleston ; had baffled the pursuit and defied the arms of the best 
British captains ; had beaten the equal enemy, and laughed at the 
superior? Certainly, if he were, then never were the simple re- 
scources of intellect, as distinguishable from strength of limb, or 
powers of muscle, so wonderfully evident as in this particular in- 
stance. The physical powers of Marion were those simply of en- 
durance. His frame had an iron hardihood, derived from severe dis- 
cipline and subdued desires and appetites, but lacked the necessary 
muscle and capacities of the mere soldier. It was the general, the 
commander, the counsellor, rather than as the simple leader of his 
men, that Marion takes rank, and is to be considered in the annals of 
war. He attempted no physical achievements, and seems to have 
placed very little reliance upon his personal prowess.t 



* Henry Lee's Memoirs. He adds: "His visage was not pleasing, and his manners not 
captivating. He was reserved and silent, entering into conversation only when necessary, 
and then with modesty and good sense. He possessed a strong mind, improved by its own 
reflections and observations, not by books nor travel. His dress was like his address — 
plain, regarding comfort and decency only. In his meals he was abstemious eating gen- 
erally of one dish, and drinking water mostly. He was sedulous and constant in his ;u 
lention to the duties of his station, to which every other consideration yielded. Even the 
f jarmsof the fair, like the luxuries o'the table and the allurements of wealth, seemed tc 
*e lost upon him. The procurement of subsistence for his men, and the continuance of 
annoyance for his enemy, engrossed his entire mind, He was virtuous all over; never 
even in manner, much less in reality, did he tnnch upon right. Beloved by his friends, 
and respected by his enemies, he exhibited a luminous example of the beneficial effects 
to be produced by an individual who, with only small means at his command, possesses 
* virtuous heart, a strong head, and a mind directed to the common good." — Appendix to 
Memoirs, vol. i. pp. 396. 

t "The dislike or indifference of Marion, to anything like mere militny display, was a 
matter of occasional comment, and some jest among his followers. Among other proofs 
—hichare given of this indifference, we are told, that, on one occasion, attempting to 



FRANCIS MARION. 283 

" The British visitor was a young man who had never seen Marion. 
The great generals whom he was accustomed to see, were great of 
limb, portly, and hu«e of proportion. Such was Cornwallis, and- 
others of the British army. Such, too, was the case among the 
Americans. The average weight of these opposing generals, during 
that war, is stated at more than two hundred pounds. The successes 
of Marion must naturally have led our young Englishman to look for 
something in his physique even above this average, and verging on 
the gigantic. Yastness seems always the most necessary agent in 
provoking youthful wonder, and satisfying it. His astonishment, 
when they did meet, was, in all probability, not of a kind to lesser, 
the partisan in his estimation. That a frame so slight, and seemingly 
so feeble, coupled with so much gentleness, and so little pretension, 
should provoke a respect so general, and fears, on one side, so im- 
pressive, was well calculated to compel inquiry as to the true sources 
of this influence. Such an inquiry was in r.o way detrimental to a 
reputation founded, like Marion's, on the successful exercise of pecu- 
liar mental endowments. The young officer, as soon as his business 
was dispatched, prepared to depart, but Marion gently detained him, 
as he said, for dinner, which was in preparation. ' The mild and dig- 
nified simplicity of Marion's manners had already produced their 
effects, and, to prolong so interesting an interview, the invitation was 
accepted. The entertainment was served up on pieces of bark, and 
consisted entirely of roasted potatoes, of which the general ate hearti- 
ly, requesting his guest to profit by his example, repeating the old 
adage, that 'hunger is the best sauce.' 'But surely, general,' said 
the officer, 'this cannot be your ordinary fare.' 'Indeed, sir, it is,' 
he replied, ' and we are fortunate on this occasion, entertaining com- 
pany, to have more than our usual allowance.' The story goes, that 
the young Briton was so greatly impressed with the occurrence, that, 
on his return to Georgetown, he retired from the service, declaring 



draw his sword from the scabbard, he failed to do so in consequence of ihe rust, the re- 
sult of his infrequent employment of the weapon. Certainly, a rich event in the life of a 
military man. The fact is, that Marion seldom used his sword except in battle, or on oc- 
casions when its employment was inseparable from his duties. Long swords were then 
in fashion, but he continued to wear the small cut and thrust of the second regiment. 
Such a weapon better suited his inferior physique, and necessarily lessened the motives 
to personal adventure." 



284 FRANCIS MARION. 

his conviction that men who could with such content endure the 'pri- 
vations of such a life, were not to be subdued. His conclusion was 
strictly logical, and hence, indeed, the importance of such a warfare 
as that carried on by Marion, in which, if he obtained no great vic- 
tories, he was yet never to be overcome. 

" The next anecdote, if less pleasing in its particulars, is yet better 
calculated for the development of Marion's character, the equal pow- 
ers of firmness and forbearance which he possessed, hia superiority 
to common emotions, and the mingled gentleness and dignity with 
which he executed the most unpleasant duties of his command. Ma- 
rion had placed one of his detachments at the plantation of a Mr. 
George Crofts, on Sampit Creek. This person had proved invariably 
true to the American cause ; had supplied the partisans secretly with 
the munitions of war, with cattle and provisions. He was an invalid, 
however, suffering from a mortal infirmity, which compelled his re- 
moval for medical attendance to Georgetown, then in possession of 
the enemy.* During the absence of the family, Marion placed a ser- 
geant in the dwelling house, for its protection. Prom this place the 
guard was expelled by two officers of the brigade, and the house 
stripped of its contents. The facts were first disclosed to Marion by 
Col. P. Horry, who received them from the wife of Crofts. This lady 
pointed to the sword of her husband actually at the side of the prin- 
cipal offender. The indignation of Marion was not apt to extend it- 
self in words. Redress was promised to the complainant and she 
was dismissed. Marion proceeded with all diligence to the recovery 
of the property. But his course was governed by prudence as well 
as decision. The offenders were men of some influence, and had a 
small faction in the brigade, which had already proved troublesome, 
and might be dangerous. One of them was a major, the other a cap- 
tain. Their names are both before us in the MS. memoir of floiry, 
copious detail on this subject leaves nothing to be supplied. 



* " The brigade of Marion was for a long period without medical attendance or a sur- 
geon to dress his wounded. If a wound reached an artery the patient bled to death. To 
illustrate the fierce hostility of Whigs and Tories, ;. sir.gle anecdote will suffice. On on 
occasion, Horry had three men wounded near Georgetown. A surgeon of the Tories 
was then a prisoner in his ranks, yet he positively refused to dress the wounds, and BUf. 
fered a fine youth named Kolb, to bleed to death before his eyes from a slight injur} 
upon the wrist." 







> : 'v 



FRANCIS MARION. 287 

We forbear giving them, as their personal publication would answer 
no good purpose. They were in command of a body of men, about 
sixty in number, known as the Georgia Refugees. Upon the minds 
of these men the offenders had already sought to act, in reference to 
the expected collision with their general. Marion made his prepara- 
tions with his ordinary quietness, and then dispatched Horry to the 
person who was in possession of the sword of Croft ; for which ha 
made a formal demand. He refused to give it up, alleging that it 
was his, and taken in war. ' If the general wants it,' he added, ' let 
him come for it himself.' When this reply was communicated to 
Marion he instructed Horry to renew the demand. His purpose 
seems to have been, discovering the temper of the offender, to gain 
the necessary time. His officers meanwhile, were gathering around 
him. He was making his preparations for a struggle, which might 
be bloody, which might, indeed, involve not only the safety of hig 
brigade, but his own future usefulness. Horry, however, with proper 
spirit, entreated not to be sent again to the offender, giving, as a rea- 
son for his reluctance, that, in consequence of the previous rudeness 
of the other, he was not in the mood to tolerate a repetition of the 
indignity, and might, if irritated, be provoked to violence. Marion 
then dispatched his orderly to the guilty major, with a request, civilly 
worded, that he might see him at head-quarters. He appeared ac- 
cordingly, accompanied by the captain who had joined with him in 
the outrage, and under whose influence he appeared to act. Marion 
renewed his demand, in person, for the sword of Croft. The other 
again refused to deliver it, alleging that ' Croft was a Tory, and even 
then with the enemy in Georgetown.' 

" ' Will you deliver me the sword or not, Major ?' was the 

answer which Marion made to this suggestion. 

" ' I will not !' was the reply of the offender. ' At these words,' 
says Horry in the MS. before us, ' I could forbear no longer, and said 
with great warmth, ' By Gr — d, sir, did I command this brigade, as 
you do, I would hang them both up in half an hour !' Marion stern- 
ly replied, — ' This is none of your business, sir : they are both before 
me ! — Sergeant of the guard, bring me a file of men with loaded arms 
and fixed bayonets !' — ' I was silent I' adds Horry : 'all our field offi- 
cers in camp were present, and when the second refusal of the sword 



2S8 FRANCIS MARION. 

was given, they all put their hands to their swords in readiness to 
draw. My own sword was already drawn 1' 

" In the regular service, and wilh officers accustomed to, and bred 
up in, the severe and stern sense of authority which is usually thought 
necessary to a proper discipline, the refractory offender would most 
probably have been hewn down in the moment of his disobedience. 
The effect of such a proceeding, in the present instance, might have 
been of the most fatal character. The esprit de corps might have 
prompted the immediate followers of the offender to have seized upon 
their weapons, and, though annihilated, as Horry tells us they would 
have been, yet several valuable lives might have been lost, which the 
country could ill have spared. The mutiny would have been put 
doAvn, but at what a price 1 The patience and prudence of Marion's 
character taught him forbearance. His mildness, by putting the 
offender entirely in the wrong, so justified his severity as to disarm 
the followers of the criminals. These, as we have already said, were 
about sixty in number. Horry continues : ' Their intentions were, 
to call upon these men for support — our officers well knew that they 
meant, if possible, to intimidate Marion, so as to (make him) come 
into their measures of plunder and Tory-killing.' The affair fortu- 
nately terminated without bloodshed. The prudence of the general 
had its effect. The delay gave time to the offenders for reflection. 
Perhaps, looking round upon their followers, they saw no consenting 
spirit of mutiny in their eyes, encouraging their own ; for, ' though 
many of these refugees were present, none offered to back or support 
the mutinous officers;' — and when the guard that was ordered, ap- 
peared in sight, the companion of the chief offender was seen to 
touch the arm of the other, who then proffered the sword to Marion, 
saying, ' General, you need not have sent for the guard.' Marion 
refusing to receive it, referred him to the sergeant of the guard, and 
thus doubly degraded, the dishonored major of Continentals — for he 
was such — disappeared from sight, followed by his associate." 

The following incident admirably illustrates Marion's great human- 
ity. He was dining at the hospitable table of Mrs. Moultrie, when it 
was whispered in his ears, that some of Col. Lee's men were engaged 
in executing certain Tory prisoners. " Marion instantly hurried from 
the table, seized his sword, and running with all haste, reached the 
olace o p execution in time to rescue one poor wretch from the gal- 



LAFAYETTE. 289 

lows. Two were already beyond rescue or recovery. "With drawn 
sword and a degree of indignation in his countenance that spoke 
more than words, Marion threatened to kill the first man that made 
any further attempt in such diabolical proceedings." 



LAFAYETTE.* 

The Marquis de Lafayette, the descendant of an ancient and noble 
family, was born in 1757. Surrounded by all the formalities, plea- 
sures and heartlessness of the French court, he yet maintained un- 
tarnished his virtues and his sincerity. Young, ardent, enthusiastic, 
full of noble aspirations and honorable sympathies, he, in the very 
earliest stages of the American Eevolution, evinced a strong interest 
in the contest, and boldly declared himself a friend to the cause of 
the Colonies. After some conferences with American agents, he, at 
last, resolved to embark to the ISTew World, for the purpose of taking 
part in the glorious struggle. His friends threw every obstacle in 
the way, and the government positively forbade his departure. But 
his resolution would not be overcome, and he secretly purchased a 
vessel out of his own funds, and fitted her for the voyage. He then 
despatched her to the port of Passage in Spain, at the same time that 
he received a despatch from government, demanding his presence at 
Marseilles. 

" Under the pretence of obeying this order, he set off in a post- 
chaise, on the road to Marseilles, in company with an officer named 
Mauroy, who was also desirous to go to America. Having proceeded 
a few leagues in this direction, he assumed the disguise of a courier, 
and, taking the road to Bayonne, rode on before the carriage in the 
capacity of servant to Mauroy. Being necessarily detained at Bay- 
onne a few hours, Layfayette acted well his part as servant, by 
throwing himself upon the straw in the stable, and dozing quietly, 
while his supposed master was arranging affairs for the prosecution 



* Compiled from Cutter's Life of Lafayette. 



290 * LAFAYETTE. 

of their journey. He had nearly escaped the danger of pursuit, when 
he was unexpectedly recognized by the postman's daughter, at St. 
Jean de Luz, a small village on the border. She had seen him as he 
passed, on his return from Passage to Bordeaux. Perceiving that he 
was known, he made a sign that she should not expose him. She 
not only kept his secret, but adroitly turned away suspicion when his 
pursuers came up. In reply to their inquiries, she assured them that 
a carriage had passed that way, but that no such person was in it as 
they described. By this means he escaped all further annoyance. 
He rejoined his ship at Passage, on the 26th of April, 1777, and set 
sail on the same day for the theatre of his future glory. In his com- 
pany was Baron de Kalb, Mr. Mauroy, and ten other officers, of dif- 
ferent ranks, to all of whom a free passage was given. 

" After a tedious voyage of seven weeks, during which time they 
had encountered the usual variety of perils and discomforts, and nar- 
rowly escaped the dangers of pursuit and capture, they descried the 
coast of South Carolina, near Georgetown, at the mouth of Pedee 
Paver. It was late in the day when they made the land. Entering 
the mouth of the river, about dark, they went on shore in their 
boats. Attracted by a light, they approached the house of Major 
Benjamin Huger. The furious barking of the dogs promised them 
anything but a hospitable reception. Nor were the people within 
apparently more favorably disposed than their watchful sentinels 
without. Supposing the strangers to be a party of pillaging marau- 
ders, just landed from some British privateer — numbers of which 
were continually hovering on the coast — they kept their doors bolt- 
ed and barred, and held a prudent parley, before they would consent 
to give them admittance. Baron de Kalb, who had been in America 
before, and was tolerably acquainted with the language, was 
obliged to act as interpreter. Having announced himself and his 
party, and explained the object of their visit to America, the doors 
were instantly thrown open, and a cordial welcome extended to the 
strangers." 

He immediately proceeded to join Washington, by whom he was 
received cordially. Shortly after his arrival, took place the Battle of 
Brandy wine, in which Lafayette did signal service. During the early 
part of the contest, he received a bullet in the leg, but not regarding 
it, he continued to cheer and encourage the men, and, by the fear- 



LAFAYETTE. 291 

ess exposure of his person, and the ardent enthusiasm of his manner, 
.ie succeeded in inspiring the ranks to a more lengthy defence. Com- 
pelled by loss of blood to stop and have his wound bandaged, he was 
exposed to imminent danger of being captured by the advancing foe. 
" It was not until he arrived at Chester, a distance of twelve miles 
from the scene of action, with the slow pace of a retreating army, in 
which he was active and useful to the last, that Lafayette was aWe to 
have his wound attended to. It was then found to be sufficiently 
serious, to require a considerable period of repose ; having, no doubt, 
been not a little aggravated by the exertions and exposures of a ha- 
zardous retreat." Six weeks elapsed, before he could leave his bed ; 
but at the soonest possible moment he resumed active employ- 
ment. 

After rejoining the army, he accompanied G-en. Greene on his ex- 
pedition to watch and harass the movements of Lord Cornwallis, as 
a volunteer. 

" Taking command of a detachment of three hundred and fifty men. 
for the purpose of reconnoitring the enemy's position, he led them 
from Mount Holly to Gloucester Point, a few miles below Philadel- 
phia, on the opposite side of the river, where he overtook the re- 
tiring foe. They had collected considerable booty, which they were 
engaged in conveying across the river. To inform himself more per- 
fectly of their position, the young general advanced, in person, upon 
a narrow strip of land called Sandy Point, which projected far into 
the river. Here he was wholly exposed to the direct fire of the Bri- 
tish, to which he would doubtless have fallen a victim, if they had 
not relied with so much confidence upon their ability to cut off his 
retreat and take him alive, as to neglect the use of their arms till he 
was quite out of their reach. His guides were in the greatest alarm. 
The pursuit was extremely warm ; but, by his coolness and activity, 
he succeeded in evading the one and quieting the other." 

On the same day he fell in with a regiment of Hessians, whom he 
immediately assaulted, and compelled them to give way. The firing 
being heard at the camp, two miles distant, Cornwallis came up, but 
owing to the skilful disposition of the American party, he was de- 
ceived as to their number, and supposing himself engaged with the 
whole of Greene's force, he suffered himself to be driven back as far 
as Gloucester, where he took a stand. In this skirmish, the British 
13 



292 . LAFAYETTE. 

lost about sixty men. The skill and sagacity with which Lafayette 
conducted this affair, instated him still higher in the confidence of 
the American people, and shortly after he was appointed to a com- 
mand, by Congress, suitable to his rank. 

We find Lafayette taking an active part in the war until peace 
was declared ; but during this time we do not discover much that 
comes properly under the head of personal adventure. He always 
manifested a fearlessness and contempt for danger, and often escaped 
miraculously from situations of great peril. One incident, that 
clearly proves not only his heroic valor, but his fine humanity, we 
will relate. It happened at the Battle of Monmou.h. 

" Having approached, with a small escort, within the reach of the 
enemy's guns, for the purpose of reconnoitring their position, hia 
aid- de-camp and friend was struck by a ball, and fell at his side. The 
officers and soldiers fled precipitately from the spot; but the general 
would not abandon his friend, while a chance remained of saving his 
life. He hastened to his side, and, leaning over him, addressed him 
in tones of kindness and affection. But it was too late ; the work 
of death was already done. Turning away with deep emotion, he 
left the place with slow and mournful steps, and presently rejoined 
his escort, who awaited his coming at a safe distance from the fatal 
battery. It is said that Sir Henry Clinton was present in person at 
this scene ; and recognizing the young marquis, by the snow-white 
charger which he always rode, was so touched by his heroic mag- 
nanimity and manly grief, that he commanded the gunners to cease 
firing, and suffered him to retire unmolested." 

THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 

After Lafayette's return to France, impressed with a sincere and 
abiding love for liberty, he strove to secure to his own native coun- 
try the blessings of that freedom which he saw so strdcingly manifest- 
ed in America. His great object became the framing of a constitution 
for France. The country at that time was under an absolute mon- 
archy, and was suffering from the misrule of the preceding kings, and 
already the first murmurings were heard of that tornado that was 
eventually to burst on the unfortunate land. The finances of the king 
were greatly embarrassed, and he called an assembly of the notables 



LAFAYETTE. 293 

to assist in devising measures for his relief. In this assembly, Lafay- 
ette first broached his plan of a constitution. This so alarmed the 
king and the aristocracy, that Louis ordered the dispersion of the as- 
sembly. It was refused, and he attempted to enforce his commands 
by an armed body. This measure aroused the indignation of the 
people. Their fury became ungovernable, and their first vengeance 
was directed against the bastile, which they demolished. The mob 
were now beyond control, and proceeded to wreek their hatred upon 
obnoxious persons. Many were seized, dragged into the street and 
hung to lamp posts. Others were shot down or trampled under foot. 
But during all this, Lafayette was the idol of the people, and he was 
appointed to the command of the National G-u ard, a guard instituted 
by the people, and composed of the citizens, for the preservation of 
their rights. Lafayette used all his influence to stem the violence 
of the mob. He was the friend of the constitution, of the people, and 
their liberties, but he was the uncompromising enemy to anarchy and 
lawlessness. The efforts and achievements of Lafayette, on the occa- 
sion of this outbreak, were truly astonishing. 

" More than twenty persons were rescued from the hands of the 
mob, by his courage, prudence, and decision. Among them was the 
Abbe Cordier, whom they were on the point of hanging to a lamp- 
post, in front of the Hotel de Ville. While standing by his side, en- 
deavoring to turn away from him the hands of the infuriated multi- 
tude, the general's son, then a mere child, was presented to him by 
his tutor. With great presence of mind, taking advantage of this 
unexpected incident, he raised the boy in his arms, and, turning to 
the crowd, said, ' Gentlemen, I have the honor of presenting to you 
my son.' Diverted, momentarily, from their object, they made the 
welkin ring with acclamations for the infant hero, whom they loved 
to honor for his father's sake ; and when the discordant cry, ' A has 
V abbe !' was renewed, the abbe was not to be found. That brief 
lull in the popular tempest had been improved by the ready tact of 
Lafayette, to remove him to a place of security within the hall. Even 
females were exposed to similar violence; and Madame de Fontenay, 
a beautiful and accomplished lady, of a most estimable character* 
owed her life that day to the firmness, intrepidity, and popularity of 
the commander of the National Guards." 



294 LAFAYETTE. 

DEFENCE OF THE KING AT VERSAILLES. 

When the king retired to Versailles, the National Guard and the 
mob resolved to force him back. Lafayette opposed arguments, en- 
treaties and commands against the settled purpose of the guard. He 
had said in the very commencement of the revolution, " If the king 
rejects the constitution, I will oppose him, and if he accepts it I will 
defend him." The king had received the constitution, and therefore 
Lafayette withstood the earnest solicitations of the army, as well as 
the turbulent vociferations of the mob. 

" From principle, and a high sense of duty to the constitution, he 
was utterly opposed to putting any restraint upon the person of the 
king. He knew that his soldiers were attached to him and respected 
him. But he had not that unlimited control, that unquestioned sway 
over their minds, which might have been acquired by leading them 
to victory. They resolved to go without him, if he would not lead 
them. The municipality directed him to go, and he was compelled to 
yield. During this day of agitations, his life had been several times 
threatened ; the fatal lantern had been several times made ready for 
him, by the furies of that day, and more than twenty maniac muskets 
had been levelled at his head; but this did not alarm him. He went 
in obedience to orders, which he was bound to respect. Halting by 
the way, he addressed the army, with his usual tact, and obtained 
from them a renewal of their oath of fidelity to the king and the 
nation. 

"On the moment of his arrival, he sent word to Mounier, president 
of the assembly, that the army had promised to do its duty, and that 
nothing would be attempted by them contrary to the law. He then 
hastened to the palace. Accompanied by only two commissaries, he 
presented himself before the gate of the court, which was filled Avith 
Swiss Guards. The gate was locked and barred, and entrance was 
refused. After some parley, however, he was admitted. As he 
passed along the court, one of the guards exclaimed, ' There goes 
Cromwell.' ' Sir,' replied Lafayette, with dignity, ' Cromwell would 
not have entered here alone.' With every demonstration of respect 
and sorrow, he informed the king of the precautions which had been 
taken to guard the palace, and to subdue and disperse the mob, as- 
suriag him of his own attachment, and that of his army. The king 



LAFAYETTE. 295 

appeared satisfied, and retired to rest. Lafayette had solicited to be 
intrusted with, all the arrangements for protecting the royal family. 
This was refused. The outposts alone were granted to him, while 
the life-guards, the Swiss G-uards, and a regiment recently intro- 
duced from Flanders, had charge of the nearer and more important 
posts. Of the life-guards, there was but a small number ; and, amid 
the many tumults of that eventful night, some accessible points had 
been overlooked and left unguarded. One of the iron-gates had even 
been left open. 

" Lafayette had made the most careful and judicious dispositions 
of his forces. He had personally inspected every post ; he had sent 
out numerous patroles. The crowd had dispersed ; it was nowhere 
to be seen. Everything seemed perfectly quiet, and, at five o'clock 
in the morning, he took some refreshment, and threw himself on a 
bed for a moment's rest, of which he had been totally deprived for the 
last twenty-four hours. 

" At this moment, the mob, roused by some tiger-spirit from their 
brief slumbers, began to stir, and to gather about the environs of the 
palace. One of the life-guards ordered them to retire. High words 
ensued, and they were fired on from a window. Infuriated by this 
assault, they instantly rushed on, passed the gate which had been 
carelessly left open, and made their way into the palace. Ascending 
a staircase, without molestation, they were entering one of the upper 
corridors, when their progress was arrested by two life-guardsmen, 
who, heroically defending themselves against overwhelming numbers 
of assailants, retreated step by step, keeping the infuriated mob at 
bay, in the hope that the royal family might escape, though by the 
sacrifice of their own lives. One of them, alarmed at the progress 
they were making toward the royal apartments, shouted, ' Save the 
queen !' The cry rang tnrough the halls, and reached the ears of the 
queen. In an agony of terror, she rushed into the king's apartments. 
Overcoming the feeble resistance of the two guards whom they first 
encountered, the assailants burst into the queen's bed-chamber. Find- 
ing the bed just forsaken, in the impotence of their rage, they pierced 
it with their swords and knives, throwing everything into complete 
disorder, and then pushed on toward the apartments of the king. 
But they were immediately checked by the life-guards, who were 
in considerable numbers at that point 



296 LAFAYETTE. 

" At this moment, the French Guards, composing a part of Lafay- 
ette's command, and stationed near the palace, hearing the uproar, 
aastened to the spot, and instantly overawed and dispersed the mob. 
Arriving at the door behind which the life-guards were stationed, 
they cried out, ' Open the door ! We are friends ! The French 
G-uards have not forgotten that you saved their regiment at Fonte- 
aoi!' The door was instantly thrown open, and they rushed into 
each other's arms. 

" All was confusion and tumult without. Lafayette, wh<} had lain 
down only for a few moments, without closing his eyes, caught the 
first sound of disturbance, ran out, leaped upon the first horse he met 
with, and galloped into the thickest of the fray. He there found 
several of the life-guards overpowered by the mob, and on the point 
of being sacrificed. At the risk of his own life, he dashed in and 
saved them, at the same time ordering all his troops to hasten to the 
palace, for the protection of the king. Alone, in the midst of the en- 
raged multitude, from whose savage grasp he had at that moment 
wrenched their prey, Lafayette had turned upon himself the violence of 
their disappointed rage. ' Down with him!' was theory. A musket 
■was aimed at his head. He saw it, and coolly commanded the peo- 
ple to bring the man to him. Instantly recovering their old regard 
for the man of the people, they turned upon the culprit, dashed out 
his brains on the pavement, and trampled him under their feet. 

" Flying to the palace, Lafayette was instantly surrounded by his 
soldiers, who promised, in the presence of the king, to protect his 
person, or perish in the attempt. At this moment, the life-guards, 
whom he had just rescued from the murderous fury of the mob, flung 
up their caps and shouted, ' Lafayette for ever!' The inmates of the 
palace, who witnessed the scene, were equally enthusiastic in their 
acknowledgments of gratitude to him, whom they warmly embraced 
as their preserver. Madame Elizabeth, the sister of the king, ran up 
to him, and clasping him in her arms, exclaimed, ' General, you have 
saved us!' Even the queen, with all her prejudices and distrust, was 
compelled to acknowledge him as the sole instrument of their deliver- 
ance — an acknowledgment which she often, afterward, repeated. 

" While this scene was enacting within the palace, the angry mul- 
titudes without were insis-ting, with loud and discordant cries, upon 
the main object of their embassy. ' To Paris!' — -To Paris!" — ' The 



LAFAYETTE. 297 

king to Paris !' was shouted by thousands of voices, till the welkin 
rung again with the cry. A council was called, to consider what 
should be done. Lafayette was requested to attend it, but refused, 
through a delicate suspicion that his presence might impose some 
restraint on the free expression of opinion. When it was decided 
that the king should comply with the wishes of the people, they were 
informed of it, by slips of paper thrown from^the windows. A shout 
of triumphant satisfaction arose from the mighty throng. Louis then 
presented himself to them, in a balcony, accompanied by Lafayette, 
as surety for the fulfilment of his pledge. He was greeted with loud 
and long-continued shouts of ' Vive le roi /' The queen was then 
called for. When she appeared, with her children, she was received 
with insulting shouts and threats. ' It was in that position,' says 
Lavallette, ' that I beheld, for the first time, that unfortunate prin- 
cess. She was dressed in white ; her head was bare, and adorned 
with beautiful locks. Motionless, and in a modest and noble attitude 
she appeared to me like a victim on the block. The enraged popu- 
lace were not moved at the sight of wo in all its majesty. Impreca- 
tions increased, and the unfortunate princess could not even find 
support in the king.' Lafayette then came forward, and begged to 
know what she intended to do. ' I shall accompany the king,' she 
replied with firmness. Then, turning to the people, he raised his 
voice to address them, but in vain. His words were lost in the wild 
uproar. If he would be understood, he must speak to the eye. 
Stooping, and taking the hand of the queen, he kissed it with pro- 
found respect. Swayed by their confidence and affection for one 
who had never betrayed the trust reposed in him, and transported at 
this significant act, the multitude instantly responded to it, with loud 
acclamations, ' Long live the queen /' — ' Long live Lafayette /' Thus, 
by the fidelity, firmness, and address, of one man, and he distrusted 
as an enemy, the royal family was saved from the hands of an infu- 
riated, starving rabble, the tide of popular indignation was turned 
suddenly back, and threats of blood-thirsty rage and revenge were 
exchanged for shouts of loyalty, confidence, and affection." 

FURTHER INCIDENTS OF THE REVOLUTION. 

" The intrepidity and personal influence of Lafayette, and the varied 
nature of his duties, as conservator of the public peace, were happily 



298 LAFAYETTE. 

illustrated by the following singular incident. A man, accused of 
having stolen a bag of oats, was seized by the people, and. in spite of 
all the efforts of the guard, had, as was supposed, just been put to 
death. Lafayette, with Romeuf, one of his aides, passing that way in 
a carriage, was informed of the circumstances. Ordering the coach- 
man to drive on as far as possible, they alighted, and threw themselves 
into the midst of the crowd. One man raised his bludgeon against Ro- 
meuf, who had laid hold of the body, to protect it from further vio- 
lence. Lafayette placed himself astride of it, and, addressing the 
crowd, told them that they were mere assassins. But, as he could 
not believe them all to be guilty, he called on them to designate the 
murderers. A man being pointed out to him as the ringleader, he seized 
him by the collar, exclaiming, ' I will show you that every function 
is honorable, when we execute the law.' He then dragged the cow- 
ardly culprit through the crowd, and handed him over to the police. 
The patrol of the National Guards pressed around him, and were not 
willing to leave him alone, exposed to the fury of the mob. But, 
having delivered up his prisoner, he ordered the guards to make a 
way, and, mounting the parapet, harangued the populace in terms of 
the severest reproach for their disorderly and criminal conduct. He 
told them that they were the dupes of factious men and robbers, who 
wished to compel the National Assembly and the king to quit Paris, 
that they might devote the city to fire and plunder ; but that the 
tranquillity and property of the capital being confided to his protec- 
tion, he would crush all who should dare to disturb the public order. 
He was confident he should be supported by the people ; but, if he 
were quite alone, he would resist crime, and cause law to be re- 
spected, till his latest breath ; and, while in the upright discharge of 
that duty, he did not believe there existed a man bold enough to at- 
tack him personally. 

" At that moment, he perceived a new movement in the mighty 
mass before him, and soon learned that the robber, whom he supposed 
dead, having revived, the mob was about to hang him, he flew to the 
spot, with Romeuf and a few of the National Guards, rescued the 
poor wretch from their hands, and consigned him to a place of safe- 
keeping and friendly care, where he soon entirely recovered. Then, 
recommencing his speech to the people, he rejoiced with them that 
they had not been guilty of murder, warned them to be always quiet. 



LAFAYETTE. 299 

orderly, and obedient to law, and ordered them to separate ; which 
they immediately did, shouting as they went ' Vive Lafayette !' 

" There was an old castle at Vincennes, a few miles from Paris, 
which had been one of the strongholds of tyranny, a sort of subur- 
ban Bastile. It was in bad oder with the people, and Layfayette 
had several times advised the king to order its demolition, as he could 
not brook the idea of its being done, under constitutional order, by a 
mob. Acting upon this hint, his aristocratic enemies had contrived 
to get up an excitement against the old tower, and to send off a 
horde of ruffians in that direction. Lafayette, hearing the uproar, 
and learning the cause, made instant arrangements, by a judicious 
disposition of his guards, to secure the tranquillity of the city, and 
hastened with his whole staff to Yincennes. The work of destruc- 
tion had already begun. The insane fury of the populace was in- 
creasing with every blow that was struck. Dashing into the midst, 
and, by his commanding presence and well-known voice, instantly 
establishing order among the National Guards of the place, whom 
some factious persons from the city were endeavoring to mislead, he 
ordered the rioters to disperse, caused the ringleaders to be seized 
and sent to prison for trial, and, in a very few hours, restored order 
and the peaceful dominion of law. 

" And it was not without great personal hazard, that Lafayette dis- 
charged this double duty of military commander, and chief of the 
police. Several shots were fired at him, and his officers though without 
effect. On his return at night, as he was passing through the street 
St. Antoine, an attempt was made, by one of the hired ruffians in the 
crowd, to trip up his horse, which was frustrated by a resolute thrust 
of the bayonet from a grenadier of the National Guard. It was ru- 
mored that the general was killed, and great excitement prevailed in 
the city, till the report was authentically contradicted." 

It was, and for a long time had been, the secret wish of the court, 
and of the ultra and royalist party, to induce the king to leave 
France. Secret plans were set on foot, and, on the night fixed upon, 
the king and the royal party silently and secretly left the palace, and 
flew from Paris. The next day when it was known, great consterna- 
tion ensued, and by many, Lafayette was held to blame. But the 
king was overtaken and brought back to the city. Upon his return, 
the Jacobins wished to depose him, and established a republic, which 



300 LAFAYETTE. 

Lafayette opposed. " The measures taken to restore the sovereignty, 
were violently opposed by the radical party, and a great riot ensued 
in the Champ de Mars, where immense numbers had assembled, 
under the direction of Kobespierre, Petion. and others, to protest 
against the king. He was restored, notwithstanding, and Lafayette 
was sent to quell the tumult. Hastening to the spot, he broke down 
all the barricades, which they had already begun to throw up, and 
dashed into the midst of the insurgents, commanding them instantly 
to disperse. Too much excited to submit without an effort, they 
instantly turned upon their assailant, and threatened his life if he 
persisted in his atempt to disturb their proceedings. Never daunted, 
when duty was before him, he sternly reiterated his order to dis- 
perse. At that moment one of the crowd, in a paroxysm of rage, 
raised a musket, and fired, the muzzle almost touching the general's 
head. By a singular interposition of Providence, he escaped this 
danger, and soon after succeeded in persuading the people to retire 
from the scene. The man who had attempted his life was arrestee' 
by the National Guards, but immediately set at liberty by Lafayette. 

THE REIGN OF TERROR HIS ESCAPE CAPTIVITY. 

At last the storm which had been so long fomenting by the in- 
strumentality of the Jacobins and the radicals, burst forth in all its 
terror, and Lafayette found it impossible to stem it. The man who 
had been the idol of the people, was now execrated by them, because 
he remained firm to the constitution and the king, and would not 
yield to the mad purposes of factions headed oy the members, Kobe- 
spiere, Danton and Marat. The king was overthrown and imprisoned, 
all law and authority defied, and the Reign of Terror commenced — an 
epoch in the history of the world, unparalleled for its atrocities and 
crimes. But Lafayette Was still beloved in the army, and among the 
people he had numerous supporters. Had he possessed the ambition 
of Casser or Napoleon, at that moment, he might have marched on 
Paris, overthrew the contending factions, and erected a government 
of his own, stable and invincible, which would have held in oblivion 
Napoleon, and prevented the fearful wars that afterwards convulsed all 
Europe. But he was denounced as a traitor, and orders issued for his 
arrest. There was but one course for safety, and he took flight to 
the Netherlands, where he expected to be received as a prisoner-of- 



LAFAYETTE. 301 

war by the allied armies of Austria and Prussia, who had combined, 
by the instigation of the French refugees, and their indominable hatred 
to the cause of the people, to attempt the overthrow of the constitu- 
tion, and the reinstating of Louis in absolute power. 

On arriving at Eochefort, one of the advanced posts of the Aus- 
trian army, it was necessary to procure a passport, and in applying 
for it, he was arrested. When brought to head-quarters, he de- 
manded the treatment, which, under the laws of nations, he was en- 
titled. But his enemies were too vindictive against the friend of 
constitutional liberty, to admit of his being alloAved to go at large on 
parole, and the champion of liberty was confined as a public malefac- 
tor, and treated with all the indignity and severity of a convicted 
felon. His enemies endeavored to seduce him from his allegiance to 
the constitution, but every attempt was received with indignation by 
the noble hearted man, and frustrated by the invincible purity of his 
principles. He was hurried from place to place, insulted with many 
indignities, and subjected to every personal degradation, At Luxem- 
bourg, an attempt was made to assassinate him, not by the tools or 
emissaries of tyrants " who had assumed the infamous distinction of 
becoming his jailers, but by his own countrymen, those aristocratic 
emigrants who had fled from their homes, where they were no longer 
regarded as born to dignity and power. Thus proscribed and cast 
off by the Jacobins, for his fidelity to the king, and equally proscribed 
and condemned by the aristocracy, for his fidelity to the constitution 
and the people, there seemed to be no refuge for him on any side. 
Hated by the nobles for his love of liberty, and by the radicals for his 
love of order, he fled from the prisons and guillotines of the one, at 
home, only to encounter the daggers and dungeons of the other, 
abroad. 

" It was a source of the greatest grief to the generous heart of La- 
fayette, that the companions of his flight were subjected to restraint 
and insult on his account. Had he not been among them, they would 
probably have been allowed to pass unmolested. Auguste Masson, 
Rene Pillet, and Cardignan, who held only a military rank, were 
sent to Antwerp, on parole, and were, soon after, exchanged or 
liberated; but Maubourg, De Puzy, and Lameth, as members of the 
National Assembly, were honored with the distinction of a dungeon, 
as men whose very existence was a terror to despotism. 



302 LAFAYETTE. 

"From Luxembourg, t>ne captives were removed, by water, to 
Wessel, on the Rhine, for more secure imprisonment within the do- 
mains of Prussia. During their journey, and on their arrival at Wes- 
sel, the populace were permitted to assail them with the coarsest and 
most abusive language. They were put in irons, and confined in se- 
parate cells, in the castle. Their only attendants were inferior, non- 
commissioned officers, who were strictly ordered never to suffer them 
to be a moment out of sight, and not to hold any kind of conversa- 
tion with them, nor even to answer their most unimportant ques- 
tions. 

" The cold and damp of his cell, and the rigor of his confinement, 
were too much for the constitution of Lafayette. He was soon re- 
duced to such a state of debility as to leave but slight hopes of his 
recovery. In this condition, his fellow-prisoners were not permitted 
to be near him, or to hold any kind of intercourse with him, nor was 
he suffered to know anything of them or of his family. It was inso- 
lently proposed to him, however, by the emissaries of the king of 
Prussia, that he should have better accommodations, and more liber- 
ty, if he would furnish plans for military operations against France. 
The base proposal was rejected with indignation. He would not 
purchase liberty, or life, at the desperate price of treachery. The 
terms of his refusal were so bold and decided, as to give new offence 
to his oppressors, who retaliated, with a petty malignity peculiar to 
little minds in great places, by diminishing still further his personal 
comforts, and increasing the severity of his confinement. "Wessel, 
wretchedly dark and gloomy as it was, had no cell severe enough to 
satisfy the revenge of the disappointed monarch. He therefore caus- 
ed his prisoner to be transferred to Magdebourg ; where were dun- 
geons better befitting his purpose. The journey was performed, as 
before, in a common cart, such as is used for the worst malefactors, 
and under a close military guard. It was, however, to the prisoners, 
a great relief from the monotony and solitude of their captivity, to be 
permitted to see and converse with each other on the way, and to 
receive, as they did, marks of sympathy and respect from the people, 
as they passed along." 

The dungeon into which Lafayette was thrown, was dark, damp, 
and narrow, and utterly destitute of any means of comfort for day or 
night. By a refinement of cruelty the prisoners were not allowed to 



LAFAYETTE. 303 

know anything of their families, and in order more effectually to pre- 
vent any information from reaching them, great care was taken to 
keep their place of confinement secret. They were removed from 
place to place, lest haply the vigilance and perseverance of friends 
should discover their concealment, and contrive means of secret cor- 
respondence. 

After a year's confinement at Magdebourg, Lafayette was removed 
to Neisse, and afterwards to Olmutz, which became his permanent 
place of confinement. To the cells of this castle the prisoners were 
so strictly confined that they never stepped out of them for any pur- 
pose whatever. To this rigid confinement the prisoners were sub- 
jected for nearly three years and a half. 

" During all that time, Maubourg and De Puzy did not once pass 
the threshold of their cells. Lafayette, after a confinement of more 
than a year, was so reduced in health, that he was permitted, on the 
certificate of three physicians, several times repeated, with urgent re- 
presentations of its absolute necessity, to take an occasional walk, 
under the guard of several officers. 

" Hitherto, the friends of Lafayette, and all the outer world, had 
been ignorant of the place of his confinement. Loud, but unavailing 
protests from America, from England, and from many parts of the 
continent, had been presented. The most urgent representations 
had been made, in high places, and under the sanction of the greatest 
names of the age, and measures, which will be detailed hereafter, had 
been put in train to effect his deliverance ; but all to no purpose. So 
far from opening the door of his dungeon, they could not even dis- 
cover the site of his prison. 

" About a year after his removal to Olmutz, an enterprise of a most 
daring and romantic character, was set on foot for his rescue. It was 
unfortunate in its issue, but its design and execution were worthy of 
the proudest age of chivalry. The cavaliers of this noble enterprise 
were Bollmann and Huger. 

' ; Dr. Erick Bollmann was a native of the electorate of Hanover. 
Brave, adventurous, philanthropic, and an ardent lover of liberty and 
of all its true advocates, he cheerfully and heartily enlisted in the 
cause of Lafayette. He had already made an unsuccessful attempt 
to procure his liberation, by presenting a memorial, in person, to 



304 LAFAYETTE. 

Frederick of Prussia. And he now resolved to use other means, more 
effectual than humble petitions." 

He managed to get into favor with one of the surgeons of the cas- 
tle, and through him succeeded, on some pretence, in getting to La- 
fayette's hand a pamphlet, on which he had written his purpose in 
invisible ink. By means of this a correspondence was kept up be- 
tween them through the good natured surgeon, who supposing that 
a mere loaning and returning of pamphlets was going on, was en- 
tirely unsuspicious of their plans. The last communication from La- 
fayette, written in lime juice on the margin of a pamphlet, conveyed 
to the Doctor the information that after repeated applications, he had 
at last obtained permission to take an airing in a carriage at stated 
days in the week, accompanied by a military guard, and that by far 
the easiest mode to restore him to liberty, would be to attack the 
guard on one of these excursions, and then to take him off. 

" On this Bollmann prepared his plans. He determined in case of 
rescue, to convey him to Tarnowitz, where he provided means for 
his concealment and eventual escape. As it was necessary, at least, to 
have one coadjutor, he communicated his project to a young Ameri- 
can gentleman, Francis Kinloch Huger, who had often mentioned to 
him, in conversation, that Lafayette, on arriving in America, first, 
landed at his father's house, and there used often to have him on his 
knees, when a boy, He was a young man of uncommon talent, de- 
cision, and enthusiasm, possessed of a warm heart and a resolute 
mind ; and he entered at once into the whole design, and devoted 
himself to its execution with the most romantic earnestness. 

" Having agreed upon a plan, they publicly announced their inten- 
tion of returning to England together. Two saddle-horses were pur- 
chased, and a steady groom was engaged to attend them. Thus, 
sometimes sending the groom a station or two forward with the car- 
riage, at others, leaving him to bring up the horses slowly, while 
they pushed on in the carriage, they arrived at Olmutz. 

" These two were the only persons on the continent, except Lafay- 
ette himself, who had the slightest suspicion of any arrangements for 
his rescue, and neither of these persons knew him by sight. When 
they reached Olmutz, Bollmann immediately visited the surgeon, and, 
knowing the day when the marquis was to, take his ride, mentioned 
to him the same day as the one on which he intended to continue 



LAFAYETTE. 305 

his journey. On that day (8th of November, 1794,) the groom was 
despatched, at an early hour, to Hoff, a post-town about twenty-five 
miles distant, with orders to have fresh horses in readiness at four 
o'clock. It had been concerted between the parties, that, to avoid 
all mistakes when the rescue should be attempted, each should take 
off his hat and wipe his forehead, in token of recognition. 

" Their saddle-horses were now ready at the inn, and Huger feign- 
ed some business near the town-gate, in order to watch the moment 
when the carriage should pass. As soon as he saw it, he hastened 
back to the inn. The two friends mounted immediately, and followed 
it at some distance, armed only with a pair of pistols, and those not 
loaded with ball. Their success was calculated on surprise ; and, 
under all the circumstances of the case, to take any person's life 
would have been unjustifiable, useless, and imprudent. 

" They rode by the carriage, and then, slackening their pace and 
allowing it again to go ahead, exchanged signals with the prisoner. 
At two or three miles from the gate, the carriage left the high road, 
and passed into a less-frequented track, in the midst of an open 
country; the plain was covered with laboring people. Presently the 
carriage stopped. Lafayette and the officer stepped out, and walked 
arm-in-arm, probably to give the former more opportunity for exer- 
cise. The carriage, with the guard, drove slowly on, but remained in 
sight. This was evidently the moment for their attempt. The two 
companions galloped up, and Bollmann, dismounting, left his horse 
with Huger. At the same instant, Lafayette laid hold of the officer's 
sword, but could only half draw it from the scabbard, as the officer, 
a stout man, had seized it also. The doctor joining, he was present- 
ly disarmed; but then he grasped Lafayette, held him with all his 
might, and set up a tremendous roaring for help. The guard, on 
hearing it, instead of coming to his assistance, fled to alarm the cita- 
del. The people in the field stood aghast. A scuffle ensued. Huger 
passed the bridles of the two horses over one arm, and with the other 
hand thrust Ms handkerchief into the officer's mouth, to stop the 
noise. • The officer, the prisoner, and the doctor, came to the ground. 
The doctor, kneeling on the officer, kept him down, while the general 
rose. 

"All would now have been well, but one of the horses, taking 
fright at the scene and noise, reared, slipped his bridle, and ran off. 



306 LAFAYETTE. 

A countryman caught him, and was holding him at a considerable dis- 
tance. Bollmann, still keeping down the officer, handed a purse to 
the general, requesting him to mount the horse which was left ; and 
Huger told him, in English, to go to Hoff. He mistook what was 
said to him, for a more general direction to go off — delayed a moment, 
to see if he could not assist them — went on — rode back again, and 
asked once more if he could be of any service — and finally, urged 
anew, galloped away, and was out of sight in a minute. 

" The officer, recovering from his panic, fled toward Olmutz. The 
doctor and Huger recovered the horse that had escaped, and both 
mounted him, intending to follow and assist Lafayette ; but the ani- 
mal, less docile and tractable than the other, which had been trained 
to carry two persons, refused to perform this task, reared and bound- 
ed, and presently threw them both. Huger immediately exclaimed, 
' This will not do ! The marquis wants you. Push on ! I'll take my 
chance on foot across the country.' The doctor pushed forward, and 
Huger, who had now little chance of escape, was soon seized by the 
peasants, and conducted back to Olmutz. These accidents defeated 
their romantic enterprise. Bollmann easily arrived at Hoff; but not 
finding Lafayette there, and being anxious to receive some intelli- 
gence of him, although he might readily have secured himself by 
proceeding to Tarnowitz, he fingered about the frontiers till the next 
night, when he, too, was arrested by order of the Prussian authority, 
at the requisition of Austria. 

Lafayette remained unpursued. He had taken a wrong road, 
which led to Jagersdoff, a place on the Prussian frontier, and follow- 
ed it as long as his horse could proceed. He was within a few miles 
of the boundary of Austrian rule ; and perceiving that his horse could 
go no farther, he accosted a man, whom he overtook on the road, not 
far from a village, and endeavored to prevail on him to procure him 
another horse, and to attend him to the frontier. The man appeared 
satisfied, and went toward the village for the horse. But the general 
had awakened suspicion by his accent, his appearance, his request, 
and his money. The man promptly returned from the village, but he 
came with a force to arrest the marquis, and conduct him before a 
magistrate. During three days, the period of his detention there, his 
name was unknown. He was at last recognized by an officer from 
Olmutz, to which fortress he was reconducted." 



LAFATETTE. 307 

Bollmann and Huger were subjected to the severest treatment, 
but upon their trial it appearing that there was no general conspiracy, 
and that they alone were concerned in the attempt, after a short con- 
finement, they were released. 

" More than three years of captivity had now worn away. The 
last was more rigorous and distressing than any of the preceding. 
Thrown back into his wretched dungeon, with bitter taunts and exe- 
crations for his vain attempt to escape, he had scarcely a hope that 
his sufferings would have any other termination than death. His 
feet were put in irons, secured to a massive bolt in the floor, and so 
closely fastened about his ankles, that, for three months, he endured 
the most excruciating tortures. During the winter of 1794-'5, which 
was extremely severe, he was thrown into a fever, and reduced to 
the verge of the grave ; and yet the severity of his confinement was 
in no way mitigated on this account. Neither food, clothing, nor at- 
tendance, suitable to his enfeebled condition, was allowed him. His 
bed was of damp, mouldy straw, which had not been changed for the 
season, to which he was confined by a chain round his waist, secured 
to the wall, and only long enough to enable him to turn from side to 
side. To add to his distresses, he was given to understand that he 
was only reserved for an ignominous execution, that the friends who 
had so nobly attempted his rescue had already perished on the scaffold, 
and that all his family had fallen under the sanguinary guillotine of 
Robespeirre, of which he had heard an appalling account during the 
few brief hours of his unfortunate attempt to escape. 

" The disinterested exertions of Bollman and Huger, while they 
recoiled upon themselves, and greatly increased the rigor of Lafay • 
ette's confinement, resulted in one great advantage to all who were 
interested in the fate of the captive. It revealed to the world the 
place of his captivity, and opened a way of access to it which could 
not be again closed up." 

His family hastened to Austria, and after a time were permitted to 
visit him. This re-union must have been thrilling to the extreme, 
while it removed from the heart of Lafayette much of the woe and 
misery with which it was oppressed. 

From the moment of Lafayette's arrest, earnest, efforts had been 
made in many quarters to effect his release, but when his place of 
confinement became known, and a knowledge of the exquisite suffer- 



308 LAFAYETTE. 

ings which he had undergone, was spread abroad, friends sprung up 
in every quarter, and in the Old World and in the New, was heard 
an universal cry of indignation and horror. Washington in his offi- 
cial capacity used every effort to effect his release ; in England, Fox, 
Wilberforce, Sheridan, Grey, Fitzpatrick and Tarlton, used their im- 
passioned eloquence, and strained every nerve, to accomplish this hu- 
mane purpose. "But while the calm persuasive dignity of Washing- 
ton, the impassioned eloquence of Fox and Fitzpatrick, did but rivet 
faster the chains of despotism, which they were endeavoring to break, 
it was reserved for the all-conquering sword of Napoleon to sever 
them at a blow. 

" When the reign of terror, having exhausted anarchy of its victims, 
and satiated death with blood, gave way to returning reason, the 
voice of France was again heard, amid the smouldering ashes of her 
desecrated altars, asking for her exiled martyrs. In the early part of 
1797, Napoleon was general-in-chief of the army of Italy. Hanging 
on the confines of Austria, within a few days' march of her capital, 
he threatened her with a deluge of arms, like that which once poured 
down from, ' the populous north,' upon the plains of Italy. Austria 
trembled at his advance, and made hasty proposals of peace. Assu- 
ming the powers of a negotiator, the youthful general included in his 
preliminaries a demand for the immediate release of the prisoners of 
Olmutz. His generous thought was seconded by the immediate ac- 
tion of the Directory, instructing him to insist upon his demand, as 
the sine qua non of the treaty." 

Austria hesitated and evaded, but the demands were peremptory, 
and on the 19th day of September, 1797, Lafayette, and his friends, 
stepped forth into the light of day, having been five years and one 
month in prison. 



MARIA ANTOINETTE. 309 



MARIA ANTOINETTE. 

The year 1789, opened upon France, lowering with darkness and 
portentious storms. Events had conspired to foment troubles be- 
tween the French monarch and his subjects. The great mass of the 
people, ignorant, degraded, and maddened with a delirious energy, 
were rising to overthrow a despotic throne and a corrupt church. 
Mobs began to gather in the streets of France, and frantic with rage, 
defied all law and all restrictions. The king, amiable, conscientious, 
and devoid of strength of character, was averse to violent measures, 
and endeavored rather to quell the storm by concession than by the 
exercise of power. Maria Antoinette, however, was the daughter of 
the high-spirited Maria Theresa, of Austria, and accustomed to depend 
on the military, she urged upon her husband, the king, to crush the 
insurrection by an army. For this, and other reasons, the queen be- 
came particularly obnoxious to the people, and all the force of their 
concentrated hatred was poured upon her unfortunate head. She was 
usually designated by the title of " The Austrian." She was very 
beautiful, high-spirited, and of a majestic demeanor, and her friends 
were attached to her with a sincere and earnest devotion. The king, 
at last, withdrew to Versailles, and in order to protect himself and 
family from insult, encamped an army around his palace. But this 
step aroused the Parisians to a terrible fury, and they gathered in 
great hordes, and attacked the army. Some fraternized with the 
people, others escaped, and the whole city was delivered up to the 
mob. Then commenced the work of destruction. The bastile, so 
long the terror of the people, was attacked and demolished, the arse- 
nals were broken open and ransacked, the houses of the nobility sur- 
rounded, and the noble and the wealthy fled in consternation from 
the scene, while bands of ferocious men and savage women traversed 
the streets in uncontrollable fury. 

The bastile overthrown, the mob began to think of the next object 
to wreak their hatred upon. The cry goes from mouth to mouth, 
" To Versailles ! To Versailles !" "Why, no one knows, only that the 
king and queen are there, and so impetuously, as by instinct, the 



310 MARIA ANTOINETTE. 

mighty mass moves on. Lafayette hastended to the spot with the 
National Guard, but most of them fraternize with the people, and he 
can only follow and watch the issue of events. The king and queen 
were warned of their approaching danger, and from the windows of 
their mansion, they descry the crowd pouring in a huge mass towards 
the palace. The guards were hastily stationed around the palace, 
and as it was just evening, they kept the crowd from the palace for a 
time. The queen thought herself in safety and retired, towards 
morning, to her chamber. The king also retired to his, which con- 
nected with that of the queen.* " Two faithful soldiers were station- 
ed at the door of the queen's chamber for her defence. Hardly had 
the queen placed her head upon the pillow before she heard a dread- 
ful clamor upon the stairs, — the discharge of fire arms, the clashing 
of swords, and the shouts of the mob rushing upon her door. The 
faithful guard, bleeding beneath the blows of the assailants, had only 
time to cry to the queen, 'Fly! fly for your life!' when they were 
stricken down. The queen sprang from her bed, rushed to the door 
leading to the king's apartments, when, to her dismay, she found that 
it was locked, and that the key was upon the other side. With the 
energy of despair, she knocked and called for help. Fortunately, 
some one rushed to her rescue from the king's chamber and opened 
the door. The queen had just time to slip through and again turn 
the key, when the whole raging mob, with oaths and imprecations, 
burst into the room, and pierced her bed through and through with 
their sabres and bayonets. 

" A few of the National Guard, faithful to the king, rallied around 
the royal family, and Lafayette soon appeared, and was barely able to 
protect the king and queen from massacre. He had no power to 
effectually resist the tempest of human passion which was raging, but 
was swept along by its violence. Nearly all of the interior of the 
palace was ransacked and defiled by the mob. The bloody heads of 
the massacred guards, stuck upon pikes, were raised up to the win- 
dows of the king, to insult and to terrify the royal family with these 
hideous trophies of the triumph of their foes. 

"At length the morning succeeding this dreadful night dawned 
lurid and cheerless. It was on the 8th of October, 17S9. Dark 

* What follows is compiled fro;n the History of Maria Antoinette, by J. S. C Abbott. 



MARIA ANTOINETTE. 311 

clouds over shadowed the sky, showers of mist were driven through 
the air, and the branches of the trees swayed to and fro before the 
driving storm. Pools of water filled the streets, and a countless mul- 
titude of drunken vagabonds, in a mass so dense as to be almost im- 
pervious, besieged the palace, having no definite plan or desire, only 
furious with the thought that now was the hour in which they could 
wreak vengeance upon aristocrats for ages of oppression. Musk- 
ets were continually discharged by the more desperate, and bullets 
passed through the windows of the palace. Maria Antoinette, in 
these trying scenes, indeed appeared queenly. Her conduct was 
heroic in the extreme. Her soul was nerved to the very highest acts 
of fearlessness and magnanimity. Seeing the mob in the court-yard 
below ready to tear in pieces some of her faithful guard whom they 
had captured, regardless of the shots which were whistling by her, 
she persisted in exposing herself at the open window to beg for their 
lives ; and when a friend, M. Luzerne, placed himself before her, that, 
his body might be her shield from the bullets, she gently, but firmly, 
with her hand, pressed him away, saying, " The king cannot afford to 
lose so faithful a servant as you are.' 

"And now the universal cry ascends, 'To Paris! to Paris!' La 
fayette, with the deepest mortification, was compelled to inform the 
king that he had no force at his disposal sufficient to enable him to 
resist the demands of the mob. The king, seeing that he was en- 
tirely at the mercy of his foes, who were acting without leaders and 
without plan, as the caprice of each passing moment instigated, said, 
' You wish, my children, that I should accompany you to Paris. I 
cannot go but on condition that I shall not be separated from my wife 
and family.' To this proposal there was a tumultuous assent. At 
one o'clock, the king and queen, with their two children, entered the 
royal carriage to be escorted by the triumphant mob as captives to 
Paris. Behind them, in a long train, followed the carriages of the 
king's suite and servants. Then followed twenty-five carriages filled 
with the members of the National Assembly. After them came the 
troops of the National Guard ; and before, behind, and around them 
all, a hideous concourse of vagabonds, male and female, in uncounted 
thousands, armed with every conceivable weapon, yelling, blasphem- 
ing, and crowding against the carriages so that they surged to and 
fro like ships in a storm. This motley multitude kept up an incessant 



312 MARIA ANTOINETTE. 

discharge of fire-arms loaded -with bullets, and the balls often struck 
the ornaments of the carriages, and the king and queen were often 
almost suffocated with the smoke of powder. 

" The two body guard, who had been massacred while so faithfully 
defending the queen at the door of her chamber, were beheaded, and 
their gory heads affixed to pikes, were carried by the windows of the 
carriage, and pressed upon the view of the wretched captives with 
every species of insult and derision. Lafayette was powerless. He 
was borne along resistless by this whirlwind of human passion. 
None were so malignant, so ferocious, so merciless, as the degraded 
women who mingled with the throng. They bestrode the cannon 
singing the most indecent and insulting songs. ' We shall now have 
bread,' they exclaimed; 'for we have with us the baker, and the 
baker's wife, and the baker's boy.' During seven long hours of 
agony were the royal family exposed to these insults, before the un- 
wieldly mass had urged its slow way to Paris. The darkness of night 
was settling down around the city as the royal captives were led into 
the Hotel de Ville. No one seemed to know what to do, or why the 
king and quuen had been brought from Versailles. The mayor of the 
city received them there with the external mockery of respect and 
homage. He had them then conducted to the Tuileries, the gorgeous 
city palace of the kings of France, now the prison of the royal family. 
Soldiers were stationed at all the avenues to the palace, ostensibly to 
preserve the royal family from danger, but, in reality, to guard them 
from escape. 

" A moment before the queen entered her carriage for tins march 
of humiliation, she hastily retired to her private apartment, and burst- 
ing into tears, surrendered herself to the most uncontrollable emotion. 
Then immediately, as if relieved and strengthened by this flood of 
tears, she summoned all her energies, and appeared, as she had ever 
appeared, the invincible sovereign. Indeed, through all these dreadful 
scenes she never seemed to have a thought for herself. It was foi 
her husband and her children alone that she wept and suffered. 

" The king and queen now found themselves in the georgeous 
apartments of the Tuileries, surrounded with all the mockery of ex- 
ternal homage, but incessantly exposed to the most ignominious in- 
sults, and guarded with sleepless vigilance from the possibility of es- 
cape. The name of the queen was the watchword of popular execra- 



MARIA ANTOINETTE. 313 

tion and rage. In the pride of her lofty spirit, she spurned all apolo- 
gies, explanations, or attempts at conciliation. Inclosing herself in 
the recesses of her palace, she heard with terror and resentment, but 
with an unyielding soul, the daily acts of violence perpetrated against 
royalty and all of its friends. All her trusty servants were removed, 
and spies in their stead occupied her parlors and her chambers. 
Trembling far more for her husband and her children than for herself, 
every noise in the street aroused her apprehensions of a new insurrec- 
tion. And thus, she lived for nearly two years of melancholy days and 
sorrowful nights, the very nobleness of her nature, glowing with heroic 
love, magnified her anguish. Every word and every action of Maria 
Antoinette were watched, and reported by the spies who surrounded 
her in the guise of servants. To obtain a private interview with any 
of her few remaining friends, or even with her husband, it was ne- 
cessary to avail herself of private stair-cases, and dark corridors, and 
the disguise of night. 

" The people were very much afraid that the king and queen might 
escape, fly to Germany, and join the allied armies then gathering, 
which would add immeasurably to their power, and perhaps bring a 
speedy retribution on them for their acts of violence. To prevent 
this Louis was strictly guarded. Notwithstanding this he was often 
urged to attempt his escape, but he for a long time refused, until at 
last, despairing of his situation, he yielded to the wishes of his friends, 
and preparations were instantly made for the flight. 

" The following plan was adopted. The royal family were to leave 
Paris at midnight in disguise, in two carriages, for Montmedy, on the 
frontiers of France and Germany, about two hundred miles from 
Paris. This town was within the limits of France, so that the king 
could not be said to have fled from his kingdom. The nearest road, 
and the great public thoroughfare led through the city of Kheims ; 
but, as the king had been crowned there, he feared that he might 
meet some one by whom he would be recognized, and he therefore 
determined to take a more circuitous route, by by-roads and through 
small and unfrequented villages. Relays of horses were to be pri- 
vately conveyed to all these villages, that the carriages might be 
drawn on with the greatest rapidity, and small detachments of sol- 
diers were to be stationed at important posts, to resist any interrup- 
tion which might possibly be attempted by the peasantry. The king 



314 MARIA ANTOINETTE. 

also had a large carriage built privately, expressly for himself and his 
family, while certain necessary attendants were to follow in another. 

" The Marquis de Bouille, who commanded a portion of the troops 
still faithful to the king, was the prime confidant and helper in this 
movement. He earnestly, but in vain, endeavored to induce the 
king to make some alterations in this plan. He entreated him, in 
the first place, not to excite suspicion by the use of a peculiar car- 
riage constructed for his own use, but to make use of common car- 
riages, such as were daily seen traversing the roads. He also be- 
sought him to travel by the common highway, where relays of horses 
were at all times ready by night and by day. He represented to the 
king that, should he take the unfrequented route, it would be neces- 
sary to send relays of horses beforehand to all these little villages ; 
that so unusual an occurrence would attract attention and provoke 
inquiry. He urged also upon the king that detachments of troops 
sent along these solitary roads would excite curiosity, and would in- 
evitably create suspicion. The king, however, self-willed, refused to 
heed these remonstrances, and persisted in his own plan. He, how- 
ever, consented to take with him the Marquis d'Agoult, a man of 
great firmness and energy, to advise and assist in the unforeseen ac- 
cidents which might embarrass the enterprise. He also reluctantly 
consented to ask the Emperor of Austria to make a threatening 
movement toward the frontier, which would be an excuse for the 
movement through these villages of detachments of French troops. 

" These arrangements made, the Marquis de Bouille sent a faithful 
officer to take an accurate survey of the road, and present a report 
to the king. He then, under various pretexts, removed to a distance 
those troops who were known to be disaffected to the royal cause, 
and endeavored to gather along the line of flight those in whose 
loyalty he thought he could confide. 

"At the palace of the Tuilleries, the secret of the contemplated 
flight had been confided only to the king, the queen, the Princess 
Elizabeth, sister of the king, and two or three faithful attendants. 
The Count de Fersen, a most noble-spirited young gentleman from 
Sweden, most cheerfully periled his life in undertaking the exterior 
arrangements of this hazardous enterprise. He had often been ad- 
mitted, in the happy days of Maria Antoinette, to the parties and 
fetes which lent wings to the hours at the Little Trianon, and chival- 



MARIA ANTOINETTE. 



311 



*ous admiration of her person and character induced him to conse- 
crate himself with the most passionate devotion to her cause. Three 
soldiers of the body-guard, Valorg, Monstrei, and Maldan, were also 
received into confidence, and unhesitatingly engaged in an enterprise 
in which success was extremely problematical, and failure was certain 
death. They, disguised as servants, were to mount behind the car- 
riages, and protect the royal family at all risks. 

" The night of the 20th of June at length arrived, and the hearts 
of the royal inmates of the Tuilleries throbbed violently as the hour 
approached which was to decide their destiny. At the hour of eleven, 
according to their custom, they took leave of those friends who Avere 
in the habit of paying their respects to them at that time, and dis- 
missed their attendants as if to retire to their beds. As soon as they 
were alone, they hastily, and with trembling hands, dressed them- 
selves in the disguises which had been prepared for their journey, 
and by different doors and at different times left the palace. It was 
the dark hour of midnight. The lights glimmered feebly from the 
lamps, but still there was the bustle of crowds coming and going in 
those ever-busy streets. The queen in her travelling dress, leaning 
upon the arm of one of the body-guard, and leading her little daugh- 
ter Maria Theresa by the hand, passed out at a door in the rear of the 
palace, and hastened through the Place du Carrousel, and, losing her 
way, crossed the Seine by the Pont Eoyal, and wandered for some 
time through the darkest and most obscure streets before she found 
the two hackney-coaches which were waiting for them at the Quai 
des Theatins. The Icing left the palace in a similar manner, leading 
his son Louis by the hand. He also lost his way in the unfrequented 
streets through which it was necessary for him to pass. The queen 
waited for half an hour in the most intense anxiety before the king 
arrived. At last, however, all were assembled, and, entering the 
hackney-coaches, the Count de Persen, disguised as a coachman, 
leaped upon the box, and the wheels rattled over the pavements of 
the city as the royal family fled in this obscurity from their palace and 
their throne. The emotions excited in the bosoms of the illustrious 
fagutives were too intense, and the perils to which they were ex- 
posed too dreadful, to allow of any conversation. Grasping each 
other's hands, they sat in silence through the dark hours, with the 
gloomy remembrance of the past oppressing their spirits, and with 
14 



316 MARIA ANTOINETTE. 

the dread that the light of morning might introduce them to new 
disasters. A couple of hours of silence and gloom passed slowly 
away, and the coaches arrived at Bondy, the first stage from Paris. 
The gray dawn of the morning was just appearing in the east as they 
hurriedly changed their coaches for the large traveling carriage the 
king had ordered, and another coach which there awaited them. 
Count de Fersen kissed the hands of the king and queen, and leaving 
them, according to previous arrangements, with their attendants, 
hastened the same night by another route to Brussels, in order to re- 
join the royal family at a later period. 

" The king's carriages now rolled rapidly on toward Chalons, an 
important town on their route. The queen had assumed the title and 
character of a German baroness returning to Frankfort with her two 
children ; the king was her valet de chambre, the Princess Elizabeth, 
the king's sister, was her waiting maid. 

" At each post-house on the road relays of eight horses were wait- 
ing for the royal carriages. When the sun rose over the hills of 
France they were already many leagues from the capital, and as the 
carriages rattled furiously along over hill and dale, the unwonted 
spectacle on that unfrequented road attracted much attention. At 
every little village where they stopped for an exchange of horses, the 
villagers gathered in groups around the carriages, admiring the im- 
posing spectacle. The king was fully aware that the knowledge of 
his escape could not long be concealed from the authorities at Paris 
and that all the resources of his foes would immediately be put into 
requisition to secure his arrest. They therefore pressed on with the 
utmost speed, that they might get as far as possible on their way be- 
fore the pursuit should commence. 

" They proceeded without interruption until they arrived at the 
town of Montmaril, where one of the carriages broke down, and they 
were detained an hour in making repairs. It was an hour of anxiety, 
but after the completion of the repairs they continued their journey, 
now rapidly reaching the frontier. But their delay caused the guards 
appointed to meet them at Chalons to fail in the appointment, and 
disappointed at this unfortunate circumstance, they drove rapidly on 
to the next relay at Satine Menehould. Here, alarmed at not seeing 
nis guard, the king indiscreetly thrust his head from the window, 
and was instantly recognized by the son of the post-master. 



MARIA ANTOINETTE. 317 

" The report was immediately whispered about among the crowd, 
but there was not sufficient force, upon the spur of the moment, to 
venture to detain the carriages. There was in the town a detach- 
ment of troops, friendly to the king, who would immediately have 
come to his rescue had the people attempted to arrest him. It was 
whispered among the dragoons that the king was in the carriage, and 
the commandant immediately ordered the troops to mount their 
horses and follow to protect the royal family ; but the National Guard 
in the place, far more numerous, surrounded the barracks, closed the 
stables, and would not allow the soldiers to depart. The king, en- 
tirely unconscious of these movements, was pursuing his course to- 
ward the next relay. Young Drouet, however, the post-master's 
son, had immediately, upon recognizing the king, saddled his fleetest 
horse, and started at his utmost speed for the post-house at Yarennes, 
that he might, before the king's arrival, inform the municipal autho- 
rities of his suspicions, and collect a sufficient force to detain the tra- 
velers. One of the dragoons, witnessing the precipitate departure of 
Drouet, and suspecting its cause, succeeded in mounting his horse, 
and pursued him, resolved to overtake him, and either detain him 
until the king had passed, or take his life. Drouet, however, per- 
ceiving that he was pursued, plunged into the wood, with every by- 
path of which he was familiar, and, in the darkness of the night, elu- 
ded his pursuer, and arrived at Yarennes, by a very much shorter 
route than the carriage road, nearly two hours before the king. He 
immediately communicated to a band of young men his suspicions, 
and they, emulous of the glory of arresting their sovereign, did not 
inform the authorities or arouse the populace, but, arming themselves, 
they formed an ambush to seize the persons of the travelers. It was 
half past seven o'clock of a cold, dark, and gloomy night, when the 
royal family, exhausted with twenty-four hours of incessant anxiety 
and fatigue, arrived at the few straggling houses in the outskirts of 
the village of Yarennes. They there confidently expected to find an 
escort and a relay of horses provided by their careful friend, M. 
Bouille. 

" A ^small river passes through the little town of Yarennes, divi- 
ding it into two portions, the upper and lower town, which villages 
are connected by a bridge crossing the stream. The king, by some 
misunderstanding, expected to find the relay upon the side of the 



318 MARIA ANTOINETTE. 

river before crossing the bridge. But the fresh horses had been ju- 
diciously placed upon the other side of the river, so that the carriages, 
having crossed the bridge at full speed, could more easily, with a 
change of horses, hasten unmolested on their way. The king and 
queen, greatly alarmed at finding no horses, left the carriage, and 
wandered about in sad perplexity for half an hour, through the dark, 
silent, and deserted streets. In most painful anxiety, they returned 
to their carriages, and decided to cross the river, hoping to find the 
horses and their friends in the upper town. The bridge was a nar- 
row stone structure, with its entrance surmounted by a gloomy, mas- 
sive arch, upon which was reared a tower, a relic of the feudal sys- 
tem, which had braved the storms of centuries. Here, under this 
dark archway, Drouet and his companions had formed their ambus- 
cade. The horses had hardly entered the gloomy pass, when they 
were stopped by a cart which had been overturned, and five or six 
armed men, seizing their heads, ordered the travelers to alight and 
exhibit their passports. The three body-guards seized their arms, 
and were ready to sacrifice their lives in the attempt to force the pas- 
sage, but the king would allow no blood to be shed. The horses 
were turned round by the captors, and the carriages were escorted 
by Drouet and his comrades to the door of a grocer named Sausse, 
who was the humble mayor of this obscure town. At the same time, 
some of the party rushed to the church, mounted the belfry, and rang 
the alarm bell. The solemn booming of that midnight bell roused the 
affrighted inhabitants from their pillows, and soon the whole popula- 
tion was gathered around the carriages and about the door of the 
grocer's shop. It was in vain for the king to deny his rank. His 
marked features betrayed him. Clamor and confusion filled the night 
air. Men, women, and children were running to and fro ; the popu- 
lace were arming, to be prepared for any emergency; and the royal 
family were worn out by sleeplessness and toil. At last Louis made 
a bold appeal to the magnanimity of his foes, which touched the 
heart's of his captors. Tears came into the eyes of many ; they he- 
sitated; the expression of their countenances showed that they would 
willingly, if they dared to consult the dictates of their own hearts, 
let the king pass on. A more affecting scene can hardly be imagin- 
ed. It Avas midnight Torches and flambeaux were gleaming 
around. Men, women, and children were hurrying to and fro in the 



MARIA ANTOINETTE. 319 

darkness. The alarm bell was pealing out its hurried sounds through 
the still air. A crowd of half-dressed peasants and artizans was ra- 
pidly accumulating about the inn. The king stood pleading with his 
subjects for liberty and life, far more moved by compassion for his 
wife and children than for himself. The children, weary and terrifi- 
ed, and roused suddenly from the sleep in which they had been lost 
in their parent's arms, gazed upon the strange scene with undefined 
dread, unconscious of the magnitude of their peril. The queen, seat- 
ed upon a bale of goods in the shop, with her two children clinging 
to her side, plead, at times with the tears of despair, and again with 
all the majesty of her queenly nature, for pity or for justice. She 
hoped that a woman's heart throbbed beneath the bosom of the wife 
of the mayor, and made an appeal to her which one would think 
that, under the circumstances, no human heart could have resisted. 

" ' You are a mother, madame," said the queen, in most imploring 
accents, ' you are a wife ! the fate of a wife and mother is in your 
hands. Think what I must suffer for these children — for my hus- 
band. At one word from you I shall owe them to you. The Queen 
of France Avill owe you more than her kingdom — more than life.' 

"'Madame,' coldly replied the selfish and calculating woman, '1 
should be happy to help you if I could without danger. You are 
thinking of your husband, I am thinking of mine. It is a wife's first 
duty to think of her own husband.' 

" The queen, finding that all appeals to such a spirit was in vain,' 
took her two children by the hand, and, with Madame, Elizabeth as- 
cended the stairs which conducted from the grocer's shop to his 
rooms above, where she was shielded from the gaze of the crowd. 
She threw herself into a chair, and, overwhelmed with anguish, burst 
into a flood of tears. The alarm bell continued to ring ; telegraphic 
despatches were sent to Paris, communicating tidings of the arrest ; 
the neighboring villagers flocked into town; the National Guard, 
composed of people opposed to the king, were rapidly assembled 
from all quarters, and the streets barricaded, to prevent the possibili- 
ty of any rescue by the soldiers who advocated the royal cause. 
Thus the dreadful hours lingered away till the morning dawned. 
The increasing crowd stimulated one another to ferocity and barba- 
rity. Insults, oaths, and imprecations incessantly fell upon the ears 
of the captives. The queen probably endured as much of mental 



320 MARIA ANTOINETTE. 

agony that night as the human mind is capable of enduring. The 
conflict of indignation, terror, and despair was so dreadful, that her 
hair, which the night previous had been auburn, was in the morning 
white as snow. This extraordinary fact is well attested, and indi- 
cates an enormity of woe almost incomprehensible. 

" During all the long hours of the night, while the king was de- 
tained in the grocer's shop at Varennes, he was, with anxiety inde- 
scrible, looking every moment for soldiers to appear, sent by M. 
Bouille for his rescue. But the National Guard, which was composed 
of those who were in favor of the revolution, were soon assembled 
in such numbers as to render all idea of rescue hopeless. The sun 
rose upon Varennes but to show the king the utter desperation of 
his condition, and he resigned himself to despair. The streets were 
filled with an infuriated populace, and from every direction the peo- 
ple were flocking toward the focus of excitement. The children of 
the royal family, utterly exhausted, had fallen asleep. Madame 
Elizabeth, one of the most lovely and gentle of earthly beings, the 
sister of the king, who, through all these trials, and, indeed, through 
her whole life, manifested peculiarly the spirit of heaven, was, re- 
gardless of herself, earnestly praying for support for her brother and 
sister. 

" Preparations were immediately made to forward the captives to 
Paris, lest the troops of M. Bouille, informed of their arrest, should 
come to their rescue. The king did everything in his power to de- 
lay the departure, and one of the women of the queen feigned sudden 
and alarming illness at the moment all of the rest had been pressed 
into the carriages. But the impatience of the populace could not 
thus be restrained. With shouts and threats they compelled all into 
the carriages, and the melancholy procession, escorted by three or 
four thousand of the National Guard, and followed by a numerous 
and ever-increasing concourse of the people, moved slowly towards 
Paris. Hour after hour dragged heavily along as the fugitives, 
drinking the very dregs of humiliation, were borne by their triumph- 
ant and exasperated foes back to the horrors from which they had 
fled. The road was lined on either side by countless thousands, in- 
sulting the agonized victims with derision, menaces, and the most fe- 
rocious gestures. Varennes is distant from Paris one hundred and 
eighty miles, and for this whole distance, by night and by day, with 



MARIA ANTOINETTE. 321 

hardly an hour's delay for food or repose, the royal family were ex- 
posed to the keenest torture of which the spiritual nature is in this 
world susceptible. Every revolution of the wheels but brought them 
into contact with fresh vociferations of calumny. The fury of the 
populace was so great, that it was with difficulty that the guard could 
protect their captives from the most merciless massacre. Again and 
again there was a rush made at the carriages, and the mob was beat- 
en back by the arms of the soldiers. One old gentleman, M. Dam- 
pierre, ever accustomed to venerate royalty, stood by the road side, 
affected by the profoundest grief in view of the melancholy spectacle. 
Uncovering his gray hairs, he bowed respectfully to his royal master, 
and ventured to give utterance to accents of sympathy. The infu- 
riated populace fell upon him like tigers, and tore him to pieces be- 
fore the eyes of the king and queen. The wheels of the royal car- 
riage came very near running over his bleeding corpse. 

" As the cavalcade drew near to Paris, the crowds surrounding the 
carriages become still more dense, and the fury of the populace more 
unmeasured. The leaders of the National Assembly were very de- 
sirous of protecting the royal family from the rage of the mob, and 
to shield the nation from the disgrace of murdering the king, the 
queen, and their children in the streets. It was feared that, when 
the prisoners should enter the thronged city, where the mob had so 
long held undisputed sway, it would be impossible to restrain the 
passions of the multitude, and that the pavements would be defaced 
with the blood of the victims. Placards were pasted upon the walls 
in every part of the city, ' Whoever applauds the king shall be beat- 
en ; whoever insults him shall be hung.' As the carriages approach- 
ed the surburbs of the metropolis, the multitudes which thronged 
them became still more numerous and tumultuous, and the exhibi- 
tions of violence more appalling. All the dens of infamy in the city 
vomited their denizens to meet and deride, and, if possible, to de- 
stroy the captured monarch. It was a day of intense and suffocating 
heat. Ten persons were crowded into the royal carriage. Not a 
breath of air fanned the fevered cheeks of the sufferers. The heat, 
reflected from the pavements and the bayonets, was almost insup- 
portable. Clouds of dust enveloped them, and the sufferings of the 
children were so great that the queen was actually apprehensive that 
they would die. The queen dropped the window of the carriage, 



322 MARIA ANTOINETTE. 

and, in a voice of agony, implored some one to give her a cup of wa- 
ter for her fainting child. 'See, gentlemen,' she exclaimed, 'in what 
a condition my poor children are! one of them is choking.' 'We 
will yet choke them and 3 r ou,' was the brutal reply, 'in another 
fashion.' Several times the mob broke through the line which guard- 
ed the carriages, pushed aside the horses, and, mounting the steps, 
stretched their clenched fists in at the windows. The procession 
moved perseveringly along in the midst of the clashing of sabers, the 
clamor of the blood-thirsty multitude, and the cries of men trampled 
under the hoofs of the horses. 

"It was on the 27th of June, 1791, at seven o'clock in the evening 
when this dreadful procession entered the city. At length they ar- 
rived half dead with exhaustion and despair, at the palace, and the 
doors of their prison were closed once more upon them. 

" The palace was now guarded, by command of the Assembly, with 
a degree of rigor unknown before. The iron gates of the courts and 
garden of the Tuileries were kept locked. At every door sentinels 
were placed, and in every passage, and in the corridor which con- 
nected the chambers of the king and queen, armed men were sta- 
tioned. The doors of the sleeping apartments of the king and queen 
were kept open night and day, and a guard was placed there to keep 
his eye ever upon the victims. No respect was paid to female mod- 
esty, and the queen was compelled to retire to her bed under the 
watchful eye of an unfeeling soldier. It seems impossible that a 
civilized people could have been guilty of such barbarism. But all 
sentiments of humanity appear to have fled from France. 

" The revolution increased in fury. At last the people were aroused 
to new acts of outrage. The immediate cau.?e was the refusal of the 
king to give his sanction to a bill for the persecution of the priests. 
It was on the 20th of June, 1792. A tumultuous assemblage of all 
the miserable, degraded, and vicious, who thronged the garrets and 
the cellars of Paris, and who had been gathered from all lands by the 
lawlessness with which crime could riot in the capital, were seen 
converging, as by a common instinct, toward the palace. They bore 
banners fearfully expressive of their ferocity, and filled the air with 
the most savage outcries. Upon the end of a pike there was affixed 
a bleeding heart, with the inscription, ' The heart of the aristocracy.' 
Another bore a doll, suspended to a frame by the neck, with this in- 



MARIA ANTOINETTE. 323 

scription, ' To the gibbet with the Ausrian.' With the ferocity of 
wolves, they surrounded the palace in a mass impenetrable. The 
king and queen, as they looked from their windows upon the multi- 
tudinous gathering, swaying to and fro like the billows of the ocean 
in a storm, and with the clamor of human passions, more awful than 
the voice of many waters, rending the skies, instinctively clung to 
one another and to their children in their powerlessness. Madame 
Elizabeth, with her saint-like spirit and her heaven-directed thoughts, 
was ever unmindful of her own personal danger in her devotion to 
her beloved brother. The king hoped that the soldiers Avho were 
stationed as a guard within the inclosures of the palace would be able 
to protect them from violence. The gates leading to the Place du 
Carrousel were soon shattered beneath the blows of axes, and the 
human torrent poured in with the resistlessness of a flood. The sol- 
diers very deliberately shook the priming from their guns, as the 
emphatic expression to the mob that they had nothing to fear from 
them, and the artillerymen coolly directed their pieces against the 
palace. Axes and iron bars were immediately leveled at the doors, 
and they flew from their hinges ; and the drunken and infuriated 
rabble, with clubs, and pistols, and daggers, poured, an interminable 
throng, through the halls aud apartments where kings, for ages, had 
reigned in inapproachable pomp and power. The servants of the 
king, in terror, fled in every direction. Still the crowd came rushing 
and roaring on, crashing the doors before them, till they approached 
the apartment in which the royal family was secluded. The king, 
who, though deficient in active energy, possessed passive fearlessness 
in the most eminent degree, left his wife, children, and sister clinging 
together, and entered the adjoining room to meet his assailants. Just 
as he entered the room, the door, which was bolted, fell with a crash, 
and the mob was before him. For a moment the wretches were held 
at bay by the calm dignity of the monarch, as, without the tremor of 
a nerve, he gazed steadily upon them. The crowd in the rear press- 
ed on upon those in the advance, and three friends of the king had 
just time to interpose themselves between him and the mob, when 
the whole dense throng rushed in and filled the room. A drunken 
assassin, with a sharp iron affixed to a long pole, aimed a thrust vio- 
lently at the king's heart. One blow from an heroic citizen laid him 
prostrate on the floor, and he was trampled under the feet of the 



324 MARIA ANTOINETTE. 

throng. Oaths and imprecations filled the room ; knives and sabers 
gleamed, and yet the majesty of royalty, for a few brief moments, re- 
pelled the ferocity of the assassins. A few officers of the National 
Guard, roused by the peril of the king, succeeded in reaching him, 
and, crowding him into the embrasure of a window, placed them- 
selves as a shield before him. By this time the crowds were like 
locusts, climbing up the balconies, and pouring in at the windows, 
and every foot of ground around the palace was filled with the ex- 
cited throng. Shouts of derision filled the air, while the mob without 
were incessantly crying, ' Have you killed them yet? Throw us out 
their heads.' 

" But while the king was suffering these tortures in one apartment 
the queen was subjected to indignities and outrages equally atrocious 
in another. Maria Antoinette was, in the eyes of the populace, the 
personification of everything to be hated. They believed her to be 
infamous as a wife ; proud, tyrannical, and treacherous : that, as an 
Austrian, she hated France ; that she was doing all in her power to 
induce foreign armies to invade the Trench empire with fire and 
sword ; and that she had instigated the king to attempt escape, that 
he might head the armies. Maria, conscious of this hatred, was aware 
that her presence would only augment the tide of indignation swell- 
ing against the king, and she therefore remained in the bed-chamber 
with her children. But her sanctuary was instantly invaded. The 
door of her apartment had been, by some friend, closed and bolted* 
Its stout oaken panels were soon dashed in, and the door driven 
from its hinges. A crowd of miserable women, abandoned to the 
lowest depths of degradation and vulgarity, rushed into the apart- 
ment, assailing her ears with the most obscene and loathsome epithets 
the language could afford. The queen stood in the recess of a window, 
with queenly pride curbing her mortal apprehension. A few friends 
had gathered around her, and placed a table before her as a partial 
protection. Her daughter, an exceedingly beautiful girl of fourteen 
years of age, with her light brown hair floating in ringlets over 
her fair brow and shoulders, clung to her mother's bosom as if she 
thought not of herself, but would only, with her own body, shield 
her mothers heart from the dagger of the assassin. Her son, but 
seven years old, clung to his mother's hand, gazing with a bewildered 
look of terror upon the hideous spectacle. The vociferations of the 



MARIA ANTOINETTE. 325 

mob were almost deafening. But the aspect of the group, so lovely 
and so helpless, seemed to disarm the hand of violence. Now and 
then, in the endless crowd defiling tlirough the room, those in the 
advance pressed resistlessly on by those in the rear, some one more 
tender-hearted would speak a word of sympathy. A young girl 
came crowded along, neatly dressed, and with a pleasing countenance. 
She, however, immediately began to revile the queen in the coarsest 
language of vituperation. 

" ' Why do you hate me so, my friend ?' said the queen, kindly ; 
' have I ever done anything to injure or to offend you ?' 

" ' No ! you have never injured me,' was the reply, ' but it is you 
who cause the misery of the nation.' 

" 'Poor child!' rejoined the queen, 'you have been told so, and 
have been deceived. Why should I make the people miserable ? I 
am the wife of the king — the mother of the dauphin ; and by all the 
feelings of my heart, as a wife and mother, I am a Frenchwoman. I 
shall never see my own country again. I can only be happy or un- 
happy in France. I was happy when you loved me.' 

" The heart of the girl was touched. She burst into tears, and 
exclaimed, ' Pardon me, good queen, I did not know you ; but now 
I see that I have indeed been deceived, and you are truly good.' 

" Hour after hour of humiliation and agony thus rolled away. At 
last the President of the National Assembly appeared, and urged upon 
the crowd to retire. Weary with hours of outrages they yielded and 
slowly left the palace. 

"On the 9th of August, 1792, the mob declared, that, unless the 
dethronement were that day pronounced, they would that night sack 
the palace, and bear the heads of the royal family through the streets 
upon their pikes. The Assembly, undecided, and trembling between 
the two opposing perils, separated without the adoption of any re- 
solve. Ah knew that a night of dreadful tumult and violence must 
ensue. Some hundreds of gentlemen collected around the king and 
queen, resolved to perish with them. Several regiments of soldiers 
were placed in and around the palace to drive back the mob, but it 
was well known that the troops would more willingly fraternize with 
the multitude than oppose them. The sun went down, and the street 
lamps feebly glimmered through the darkness of the night. The 
palace was filled with armed men. The gentlemen surrounding the 



326 MARIA ANTOINETTE. 

king were all conscious of their utter inability to protect him. They 
had come but to share the fate of their sovereign. The queen and 
the Princess Elizabeth ascended to an upper part of the palace, and 
stepped from a low window into the dark shadow of a balcony to look 
out upon the tumultuous city. The sound, as of the gathering of a 
resistless storm, swept through all the streets, and rose loud and 
threatening above the usual roar of the vast metropolis. The solemn 
tones of the alarm bells, pealing through the night air, summoned all 
the desperadoes of France to their several places of rendezvous, to 
march upon the palace. The rumbling of artillery wheels, and the 
frequent discharge of musketry, proclaimed the determination and the 
desperation of the intoxicated mob. In darkness and silence, the 
queen and her sister stood listening to these fearful sounds, and their 
hearts throbbed violently in view of the terrible scene through which 
they knew that they must pass. The queen, pale but tearless, and 
nerved to the utmost by queenly pride, descended to the rooms be- 
low. She walked into the chamber where her beautiful son was 
sleeping, gazed earnestly upon him for a moment, bent over him, and 
imprinted upon his cheek a mother's kiss — and yet without a tear. 
She entered the apartment of her daughter — lovely, surpassingly 
lovely in all the blooming beauty of fifteen. The princess, compre- 
hending the peril of the hour, could not sleep. Maria pressed her 
child to her throbbing heart, and the pride of the queen was soon 
vanquished by the tenderness of the mother, as with convulsive en- 
ergy she embraced her, and wept in anguish almost unendurable. 
Shouts of unfeeling derision arose from the troops below, stationed 
for the protection of the royal family, and their ears were assailed by 
remarks of the most brutal barbarity. Hour after hour of the night 
lingered along, the clamor without incessantly increasing, and the 
crowds surrounding the palace augmenting. The excitement within 
the palace was .so awful that no words could give it utterance. The 
few hundred gentlemen who had come so heroically to share the 
fate of their sovereign were aware that no resistance could be made 
to the tens of thousands who were thirsting for their blood. 

"Midnight came. It was fraught with horror. The queen, in utter 
exhaustion, threw herself upon a sofa. At that moment a musket 
shot was fired in the court-yard. 'There is the first shot,' said the 
queen, with the calmness of despair, ' but it will not be the last 



MARIA ANTOINETTE. 327 

Let us go and be with the king.' At length, from the windows of 
their apartment, a few gleams of light began to redden the eastern 
sky. ' Come,' said the Princess Elizabeth, ' and see the rising sun.' 
Maria went mournfully to the window, gazed long and steadfastly 
upon the rising luminary, feeling that, before the day's sun should go 
down, she and all whom she loved would be in another world. It 
was an awful spectacle which the light of day revealed. All the ave- 
nues to the palace were choked with intoxicated thousands. The 
gardens, and the court-yard surrounding the palace, were filled with 
troops, placed there for the protection of the sovereign, but evidently 
sympathizing with the mob, with whom they exchanged badges and 
friendly greetings. The queen, apprehensive that the children might 
be massacred in their beds, had them dressed, and placed by the 
side of herself and the king. It was recommended to the king that 
he should go down into the court-yard, among the troops stationed 
there for his defense ; that his presence might possibly awaken sym- 
pathy and enthusiasm in his behalf. The king and queen, with their 
son and daughter, and Madame Elizabeth, went down with throbbing 
hearts to visit the ranks of their defenders. They were received with 
derisive insults and hooting. Some of the gunners left their posts, 
and thrust their fists into the face of the king, insulting him with me- 
naces the most brutal. They instantly returned to the palace, palled 
with indignation and despair. 

"Soon an officer came in and informed the king that all resistance 
was hopeless ; that six pieces of artillery were already pointed against 
the main door of the palace ; that a mob of countless thousands, well 
armed, and dragging with them twelve heavy cannon, were rapidly 
approaching the scene of conflict ; that the whole populace of Paris 
were up in arms against the king, and that no reliance whatever 
could be placed in the soldiers stationed for his defense. ' There is 
not,' said he, ' a single moment to lose. You will all inevitably and 
immediately perish, unless you hasten to the hall where the Assembly 
is in session, and place yourself under the protection of that body.' 
The pride of the queen was instantly aroused in view of appealing to 
the Assembly, their bitterest enemy, for succor, and she indignantly 
replied, ' I would rather be nailed to the walls of the palace than 
leave it to take refuge in the Assembly.' And the heroism of Maria 
Theresa instinctively inspiring her bosom, she seized, from the belt 



328 MARIA ANTOINETTE. 

of an officer, two pistols, and, presenting them to the king, exclaimed, 
' Now, sire, is the time to show yourself, and, if we must perish, let 
us perish with glory.' The king calmly received the pistols, and si- 
lently handed them back to the officer. 

" 'Madame." said the messenger, 'are yon prepared to take upon 
yourself the responsibility of the death of the king, of yourself, of 
your children, and of all who are here to defend you ? All Paris is 
on the march. Time presses. In a few moments it will be too late.' 
The queen cast a glance upon her daughter, and a mother's fears 
prevailed. The crimson blood mounted to her temples. Then, again, 
she was pale as a corpse. Then, rising from her seat,*she said, ' Let 
us go.' It was seven o'clock in the morning. 

" The king and queen, with their two children, Madame Elizabeth, 
and a few personal friends, descended the great stair-case of the 
Tuileries, to pass out through the bauds of soldiers and the tumultuous 
mob to the hall of the Assembly. At the stair-case there was a large 
concourse of men and women, gesticulating with fury, who refused 
to permit the royal family to depart. The tumult was such that the 
members of the royal family were separated from each other ; and 
thus they stood for a moment mingled with the crowd, listening to 
language of menace and insult, when a deputy assured the mob that, 
an order of the Assembly had summoned the royal family to them. 
The rioters then gave way, and the mournful group passed out of the 
door into the garden. They forced their way along, surrounded by a few 
friends, through imprecations, insults, gleaming daggers, and dangers 
innumerable, until they arrived at the hall of the Assembly, which 
the king was with great difficulty enabled to enter, in consequence 
of the immense concourse which crowded him, thirsting for his blood, 
and yet held back by an unseen hand. As the king entered the hall, 
he said, with dignity, to the president, ' I have come here to save the 
nation from the commission of a great crime. 1 shall always consider 
myself, with my family, safe in your hands.' The royal family sat 
down upon a bench. Mournful silence pervaded the halL A more 
sorrowful, heart-rending sight mortal eyes have seldom seen. 

" Scarcely had the royal party got into this place of retreat, when 
the noise without informed them their friends were falling before 
the daggers of the assassins. The rolling fire of artillery, and the re- 
port of musketry at the palace proclaimed the horrible massacre that 



MARIA ANTOINETTE. 329 

was occurring there. All that day, and until early the next morning, 
the royal family remained in their retreat, after which they were re- 
moved to the Temple prison. 

" Six weeks of the most unendurable agony were passed by this 
unfortunate family in their miserable prison, but still solaced with the 
comfort that their miseries were relieved by each others' society, 
when one night six municipal officers entered and read a decree, or- 
dering the entire separation of the king from the rest of his family. 
ISTo language can express the consternation of the sufferers in view 
of this cruel measure. The officers heeded not their agonized pray- 
ers not to be separated, but tore them asunder. The anguish of the 
queen in the endurance of this most cruel separation was apparently 
as deep as human nature could experience. Her woe amounted to 
delirium. 

" After some time, the king was occasionally permitted to partake 
his meals with his family, a guard being always present to hear what 
they should say. Immediately after the meal, he was to be taken 
back to his solitary imprisonment. 

" Such was the condition of the royal family during a period of 
about four months, varied by the capricious mercy or cruelty of the 
different persons who were placed as guards over them. Their clothes 
became soiled, threadbare, and tattered; and they were deprived of 
all means of repairing their garments, lest they should convert needles 
and scissors into instruments of suicide. At the end of four months 
the king was dragged from their sides to the guillotine, and before 
his assembled subjects, he was executed. 

" While the king was suffering upon the guillotine, the queen, with 
Madame Elizabeth and the children, remained in their prison, in the 
endurance of anguish as severe as could be laid upon human hearts. 
The queen was plunged into a continued succession of swoons, and 
when she heard the booming of the artillery, which announced that 
the fatal axe had fallen and that her husband was headless, her com- 
panions feared that her life was also, at the same moment, to be ex- 
tinguished. Soon the rumbling of wheels, the rolling of heavy pieces 
of cannon, and the shouts of the multitude penetrating through the 
Dars of her cell, proclaimed the return of the procession from the 
scene of death. The queen was extremely anxious to be informed of 



MARIA ANTOINETTE. 330 

all the details of the last moments of the king, but her foes refused 
her even this consolation. 

"Days and nights now lingered slowly along, while the captives 
were perishing in monotonous misery. The severity of their im- 
prisonment was continually increased by new deprivations. No com- 
munications from the world without were permitted to reach their 
ears. Shutters were so arranged that even the sky was scarcely visi 
ble, and no employment whatever was allowed them to beguile their 
hours of woe. About four months after the death of the king, a loud 
noise was beard one night at the door of their chamber, and a band 
of armed men came tumultuously in, and read to the queen an order 
that her little son should be entirely separated from her, and im- 
prisoned by himself. The poor child, as he heard this cruel decree, 
was frantic with terror, and, throwing himself into his mother's arms, 
shrieked out, ' mother ! mother 1 mother ! do not abandon me to 
those men. They will kill me as they did papa.' The queen wa3 
thrown into a perfect delirium of mental agony. She placed her 
child upon the bed, and, stationing herself before him, with eyes 
glaring like a tigress, and with almost superhuman energy, declared 
that they should tear her in pieces before they should touch her poor 
boy. The officers were subdued by this affecting exhibition of mater- 
nal love, and forbore violence. For two hours she thus contended 
against all their solicitations, until, entirely overcome by exhaustion, 
she fell in a swoon upon the floor. The child was then hurried from 
the apartment, and placed under the care of a brutal wretch, whose 
name, Simon, inhumanity has immortalized. The unhappy child 
threw himself upon the floor ( of his cell, and for two days remained 
Avithout any nourishment. The queen abandoned herself to utter 
despair. Madame Elizabeth and Maria Theresa performed all the ser- 
vice of the chamber, making the beds, sweeping the room, and attend- 
ing upon the queen. No importunities on the part of Maria Antoi- 
nette could obtain for her the favor of a single interview with her 
child. 

" Three more months passed slowly away, when early in August, the 
queen was aroused from her sleep at midnight by armed men, with 
lanterns, bursting into her room. With unfeeling barbarity, they or- 
dered her to accompany them to the prison of the Conciergerie, the 
most dismal prison in Paris, where those doomed to die awaited their 



MARIA ANTOINETTE. 331 

execution. The queen listened, unmoved, to the order, for her heart 
had now become callous even to woe. Her daughter and Madame 
Elizabeth threw themselves at the feet of the officers, and most pa- 
thetically, but unavailingly, implored them not to deprive them of 
their only remaining solace. The queen was compelled to rise and 
dress in the presence of the wretches who exulted over her abase- 
ment. She clasped her daughter for one frantic moment convulsively 
to her heart, covered her with embraces and kisses, spoke a few 
words of impassioned tenderness to her sister, and then, as if striving 
by violence to throw herself from the room, she inadvertently struck 
her forehead a severe blow against the low portal of the door. ' Did 
you hurt you T inquired one of the men. ' Oh no !' was the despair- 
ing reply, ' nothing now can further harm me.' 

"A few lights glimmered dimly from the street lamps as the queen 
entered the carriage, guarded by soldiers, and was conveyed through 
the sombre streets to her last earthly abode. The prison of the 
Conciergerie consists of a series of subterranean dungeons beneath " 
the floor of the Palais de Justice. More damp, dark, gloomy dens of 
stone and iron the imagination cannot conceive. Down the dripping 
and slippery steps she was led, groping her way by the feeble light 
of a tallow candle, until she approached, through a labyrinth of corri- 
dors, an iron door. It grated upon its hinges, and she was thrust in, 
two soldiers accompanying her, and the door was closed. It was 
midnight. The lantern gave just light enough to show her the hor- 
rors of her cell. The floor was covered with mud and water, while 
little streams trickled down the stone walls. A miserable pallet in 
one corner, an old pine table and one chair, were all the comforts the 
kingdom of France could afford its queen. 

" The heart of the wife of the jailer was touched with compassion 
in view of this unmitigated misery. She did not dare to speak words 
of kindness, for they would be report ed by the guard. She, however 
prepared for her some food, ventured to loan her some needles, and 
a ball of worsted, and communicated intelligence of her daughter and 
son. The Committee of Public Safety heard of these acts of mercy, 
and the jailer and his wife were immediately arrested, and plunged 
into those dungeons into which they would have allowed the spirit 
of humanity to enter. The shoes of the queen, saturated with water, 
soon fell from her feet. Her stockings and her dress, from the hu- 



332 MARIA ANTOINETTE. 

midity of the air, were in tatters. Two soldiers, with drawn swords, 
were stationed by her side night and day, with the command never, 
even for one moment, to turn their eyes from her. The daughter of 
the new jailer, touched with compassion, and regardless of the fate 
of the predecessors of her parents, entered her cell every morning to 
dress her whitened locks, which sorrow had bleached. The queen 
ventured one day to solicit an additional counterpane for her bed. 
' How dare you make such a request ?' replied the solicitor general 
of the commune; 'you deserve to be sent to the guillotine!' The 
queen succeeded secretly, by means of a tooth-pick, which he con- 
verted into a tapestry needle, in plaiting a garter from thread which 
she plucked from an old woollen coverlet. This memorial of a mo- 
ther's love she contrived by stratagem, to transmit to her daughter. 
This was the richest legacy the daughter of Maria Theresa and the 
Queen of France could bequeath to her child. That garter is still 
preserved as a sacred relic by those who revere the memory and com- 
miserate the misfortunes of Maria Antoinette. 

" Two months of this all but insupportable imprisonment passed 
away, when early in October, she was brought from her dungeon be- 
low to the court-room above for her trial." 

She was condemned to die. On the 14th of October, 1793, she was 
led out to be sacrificed to the infuriated spirit of the people. In the 
common cart, used for such purposes, with her hands bound behind 
her, and in a coarse, tattered dress, she was drawn through a vast 
multitude to the place where the murder was to be done. Amid the 
derisions, insults and taunts of the demoniac wretches that surround- 
ed the scaffold, Maria Antoinette, the beautiful, high born, noble 
hearted woman, heroically died. It is impossible to think over the 
terrible woes and the bloody end of this queen without being effected 
with the liveliest feelings of indignation and pity, and upon the ac- 
tors in the butchery, words cannot express the execration the he t,- t 
naturally feels. 



MUNGO PARK. 333 



MUNGO PARK. 

Mungo Park, the celebrated traveller, was the son of a farmer. 
He was born in 1771, at Fowlshilds, near Selkirk, in Scotland, and 
was brought up to the medical profession. After having made a voy- 
age to Bencoolen, he was engaged, in 1795, by the African Society, 
to penetrate into the interior of Africa, and explore the source of the 
Niger. He arrived in the Gambia, in June, and on the second of 
December, proceeded from Pisania on his adventurous journey. He 
was accompanied by an interpreter, and a negro boy. His two at- 
tendants were mounted on asses, while Park had procured for him- 
self a very hardy and spirited horse. His first destination was Jm- 
dey, where he arrived at the close of the first day. Here he was 
well received, but departed on the next day, and bent his steps to- 
wards the dominions of the king of Wooli. Here again he was re- 
ceived with considerable attention. Passing through several king- 
doms without much adventure, in all of which he was compelled to 
conciliate the chiefs by presents, and sometimes their rapacity was so 
great as to strip him of everything valuable, we find him on the con- 
fines of the kingdom of Kaarta. Here considerable obstacles arose to 
his progress, for the country through which lay his destined route, 
was threatened with hostilities from the neighboring sovereignty of 
Bambana, but at last he set off with the hope of passing through it 
before the war began. 

" At Feesurah, the first village of Kaarta, Park found it necessary, in 
consequence of the fears of his attendants, to induce his landlord, by 
the present of a blanket, to accompany the party to the capital Kem- 
moo, for their protection upon the road. This man was one of those 
negroes who, together with the ceremonial part of the Mohammedan 
religion, retain all their ancient superstitions, and even drink strong 
liquors ; they were called Johars or Jowers, and in the kingdom of 
Kaarta formed a very numerous and powerful body, 

" ' We had no sooner,' says Park, 'got into a dark and lonely part 
of the first wood, than he made a sign for us to stop, and taking hold 
of a hollow piece of bamboo, that hung as an amulet round his neck, 



334 MUNGO PARK. 

whistled very loud three times. I confess I was somewhat startled, 
thinking it was a signal for some of his companions to come and at- 
tack us ; but he assured me that it was done merely with a view to 
ascertain what success we were likely to meet with on our present 
journey. He then dismounted, laid his spear across the road, and 
having said a number of short passages, concluded with three loud 
whistles ; after which he listened for some time, as if in expectation 
of an answer, and receiving none, told us we might proceed without 
fear, as there was no danger.' 

" As the party advanced, they found many large villages deserted, 
the inhabitants having fled to Kasson, to avoid the horrors of the 
approaching war. As they drew near to Kemrnoo, an amusing inci- 
dent occurred. ' I had wandered a little from my people,' says Park, 
' and being uncertain whether they were before or behind me, I has- 
tened to a rising ground to look about me. As I was proceeding 
towards this eminence, two negro horsemen, armed with muskets, 
came galloping from among the bushes ; on seeing them I made a 
full stop, and the horsemen did the same, and all of us seemed equal- 
ly surprised and confounded at this interview. As I approached 
them their fears increased, and one of them, after casting upon me a 
look of horror, rode off at full speed ; the other, in a panic of fear, 
put his hand over his eyes, and continued muttering prayers, until 
his horse, seemingly without the rider's knowledge, conveyed him 
slowly after his companion. About a mile to the westward, they feH 
in with my attendants, to whom they related a frightful story. It 
seems their fears had dressed me in the flowing robes of a tremen- 
dous spirit ; and one of them affirmed, that when I made my appear- 
ance, a cold blast of wind came pouring down upon him from the sky 
like so much cold water.' 

" On the 12th of February, they entered Kemmoo, the capital of 
Kaarta, where the curiosity of the people to see the white man was 
so great, that the large hut assigned to him by the king was succes- 
sively filled and emptied thirteen times. In the evening, Park had 
an audience of the king, Daisy Koorabarri by name, who was seated 
on a leopard's skin, spread over a bank of earth about two feet high. 
He was received with great kindness by the monarch, who endea- 
vored to dissuade him from prosecuting his journey, and recommend- 
ed him to return into Kasson for three or four months, when the war 



MCNGO PARK. 335 

probably would be ended. ' This advice,' says Park, ' was certainly 
well meant on the part of the king, and perhaps I was to blame in 
not following it ; but I reflected that the hot months were approach- 
ing, and I dreaded the thoughts of spending the rainy season in the 
interior of Africa.' 

" Finding that Park was determined to proceed, the king told him 
that there still remained one route into Bambarra — circuitous, and by 
no means free from danger — that was, through the Moorish kingdom 
of Ludamar, to the frontier town of which, Jarra, he would furnish 
guides. At this juncture intelligence was brought that the Bambarra 
army was on its march towards Kaarta ; and Park at once resolved 
to take the route suggested, through Ludamar. It was an unfortu- 
nate determination ; to use his own expression, ' the immediate 
cause of all the misfortunes and calamities which afterward befell 
him.' 

Park now struck out direct to the north, towards Jarra, the fron- 
tier town of the Moorish kingdom of Ludamar. It was with great 
difficulty that he could induce his attendants to follow him, as they 
were greatly terrified at the thought of falling into the hands of the 
Moors. 

ILL TREATMENT BY THE MOORS. 

" Having passed through Jarra, he came to the town of Deena, 
where the Moors, being in greater proportion to the negroes than at 
Jarra,- were more bold in ill treating him. They assembled round 
the hut of the negro in which he lodged, and treated him with the 
greatest insolence : they hissed, shouted, and abused him ; they even 
spat in his face, with a view to irritate him, and afford them a pre- 
text for seizing his baggage. But, finding that such insults had not 
the desired effect, they had recourse to the final and decisive argu- 
ment that he was a Christian, and that, of course, his property was 
lawful plunder to the followers of Mohammed. They accordingly 
opened his bundles, and robbed him of everything which they fancied. 
His attendants, finding that everybody could plunder him with impu- 
nity, insisted on returning to Jarra. 

" On the following day he found his attendants obstinate in their 
refusal to proceed. Therefore, on the following morning, about two 



336 MUNGO PARK. 

o'clock, he departed alone from Deena. ' It was moonlight, but the 
roaring of the wild beasts made it necessary to proceed with caution.' 
When he had reached a rising ground, about half a mile from the 
town, he heard somebody halloo, and, looking back, saw his faithful 
boy, Demba, running after him. The lad told him that, if he Avould 
stop a little, Daman's negro might be persuaded to accompany them. 
Park waited accordingly ; and in about an hour the boy returned 
with the negro." 

TAKEN CAPTIVE BY THE MOORS. 

At the village of Samee, as he had no apprehensions concerning 
the Moors, being within two day's journey of Gamboo, he accepted 
an invitation from the dooty to remain until he could refresh himself. 
He passed the day very pleasantly, and two sheep were killed in 
honor of his visit. 

" In the midst of this harmless festivity, I flattered myself," says 
Park, " that all danger from the Moors was over. Fancy had already 
placed me on the banks of the Niger, and presented to my imagina- 
tion a thousand delightful scenes in my future progress, when a par- 
ty of Moors unexpectedly entered the hut and dispelled the golden 
dream. They came, they said, by Ali's orders, to convey me to his 
camp at Benown. If I went peaceably, they told me, I had nothing 
to fear ; but : f I refused, they had orders to bring me by force. I 
was struck dumb by surprise and terror, which the Moors observing, 
endeavored to calm my apprehensions, by repeating the assurance 
that I had nothing to fear. Their visit, they added, was occasioned 
by the curiosity of Ali's wife, Fatima, who had heard so much about 
Christians that she was very desirous to see one ; as soon as her cu- 
riosity should be satisfied, they had no doubt, they said, that Ali 
would give me a handsome present, and send a person to conduct 
me to Bambara. Finding entreaty and resistance equally fruitless, 1 
prepared to follow the messengers, and took leave of my landlord 
and his company with great reluctance. Accompanied by my faith- 
ful boy, (for Daman's slave had made his escape on seeing the Moors,) 
we reached Dalli in the evening, where we were strictly watched by 
the Moors during the night." 

" As he journeyed back with his captors, he had several opportu- 
nities of observing the infamous character of the Moors. At Dee- 



MUNGO PARK. 337 

na, where he had been so badly treated by them a few days before, 
he went to pay his respects to one of Ali's sons; as soon as he was 
seated, the royal youth handed him a double-barrelled gun, telling 
him to dye the stock blue, and mend one of the locks. Park had 
great difficulty in persuading him that he knew nothing about the 
matter. ' If you cannot repair the gun, then,' said the prince, 'you 
shall give me some knives and scissors immediately ;' and when the 
boy Demba, who acted as Park's interpreter, declared that his mas- 
ter had no such articles, the barbarian hastily snatched up a musket 
that stood by him, cocked it, and putting the muzzle close to the 
boy's ear, would certainly have shot him dead on the spot, had not 
the Moors wrested the weapon from him, and made signs for the 
strangers to retire. The boy was so terrified that he tried to make 
his escape in the night: but the vigilance of the Moors was too 
strict. 

" A little before sunset, on the 12th, the party reached Benown, as 
the residence of Ali was called ; a collection of dirty-looking tents, 
scattered, without order, over a large space of ground, and intermix- 
ed with herds of camels, cattle and goats. 'My arrival,' says Park, 
' was no sooner observed, than the people who drew water at the 
wells threw down their buckets ; those in the tents mounted their 
horses, and men, women, and children came running or galloping 
towards me. I soon found myself surrounded by such a crowd, that 
I could scarcely move; one pulled my clothes, another took off my 
hat, a third stopped me to examine my waistcoat-buttons, and a 
fourth called out, La illah el allah, Mohammed rasowl allahi* and 
signified in a threatening manner that I must repeat those words. 
We reached, at length, the king's tent, where we found a number of 
people, men and women, assembled. Ali was sitting upon a black 
leather cushion, clipping a few hairs from his upper lip, a female at- 
tendant holding up a looking glass before him. He appeared to be 
an old man, of the Arab cast, with a long white beard ; and he had 
a sullen and indignant aspect. He surveyed me with attention, and 
inquired of the Moors if I could speak Arabic; being answered in 
the negative, he appeared much surprised, and continued silent. The 



There is but one God, and Mohammed is his prophet. 



338 MUNGO PARK. 

surrounding attendants, and especially the ladies, were abundantly 
more inquisitive ; they asked a thousand questions, inspected every 
part of my apparel, searched my pockets, and obliged me to unbut- 
ton my waistcoat and display the whiteness of my skin ; they even 
counted my toes and fingers, as if they doubted whether in truth I 
was a human being. In a little time, the priest announced evening 
prayers; but, before the people separated, the Moor, who acted as 
interpreter, informed me that Ah was about to present me with 
something to eat ; and, looking round, I observed some boys bring- 
ing a wild hog, which they tied to one of the tent-strings, and Ali 
made signs to me to kill and dress it for supper. Though I was very 
hungry, I did not think it prudent to eat any part of an animal so 
much detested by the Moors, and therefore told him that I had never 
ate such food. They then untied the hog, in hopes that it would 
run immediately at me ; for they believe that a great enmity sub- 
sists between hogs and Christians. But in this they were disap- 
pointed ; for the animal no sooner regained his liberty, than he be- 
gan to attack, indiscriminately, every person that came in his way, 
and at last took shelter under the couch upon which the Icing was 
sitting. The assembly being thus dissolved, I was conducted to the 
tent of Ali's chief slave, but was not permitted to enter, nor touch 
anything belonging to it. I requested something to eat, and a little 
boiled corn, with salt and water, was at length sent me in a wooden 
bowl; and a mat was spread upon the sand before the tent, on which 
I passed the night, surrounded by the curious multitude.' 

" In the morning Ali assigned him a tent ; and when he entered 
it, he found the wild hog tied to one of its supports. The boys came 
and amused themselves by beating the animals with sticks until he 
became so irritated as to run and bite at every person within its 
reach. The men and women then came in crowds to see the white 
man, and kept him from noon to night dressing and undressing, but- 
toning and unbuttoning. 

" During the night the Moors kept a regular Avatch, and frequent- 
ly looked into the hut to see if he was asleep, lighting a wisp of 
grass when it was quite dark. 'About two in the morning,' he says, 
'a Moor entered the hut, probably with a view to steal something, or, 
perhaps, to murder me; and, groping about, laid hi.< hand upon my 
shoulder. As night visiters were at best but suspicious characters, 



MUNGO PARK. 339 

I sprang up the moment he laid his hand upon me ; and the Moor, 
in his haste to get off, stumbled over my boy, and fell with his face 
upon the wild hog, which returned the attack by biting the Moor's 
arm. The screams of this man alarmed the people in the king's tent, 
who immediately conjectured that I had made my escape, and a 
number of them mounted their horses and prepared to pursue me. 
I observed, upon this occasion, that Ali did not sleep in his own tent, 
but came galloping upon a white horse from a small tent at a con- 
siderable distance ; indeed, the tyrannical and cruel behavior of this 
man made him so jealous of every person around him, that even his 
own slaves and domestics knew not where he slept. When the 
Moors had explained to him the cause of this outcry, they all went 
away, and I was permitted to sleep quietly until morning.' 

" The following day witnessed the same round of insult and irrita- 
tion. The boys assembled to beat the hog ; the men and women to 
plague the Christian. 'It is impossible for me,' says Park, 'to des- 
cribe the behaviour of a people who study mischief as a science, and 
exult in the miseries and misfortunes of their fellow-creatures It is 
sufficient to observe, that the rudeness, ferocity, and fanaticism which 
distinguish the Moor from the rest of mankind, found here a proper 
subject whereon to exercise their propensities. I was a stranger, I 
was unprotected, and I was a Christian ; each of these circumstances 
is sufficient to drive away every spark of humanity from the heart of 
a Moor ; but when all of them, as in my case, were combined in the 
same person ; and a suspicion prevailed, withal, that I had come as a 
spy into the country, the reader -will easily imagine that, in such a 
situation, I had everything to fear. Anxious, however, to conciliate 
favor, and, if possible, to afford the Moors no pretence for ill-treating 
me, I readily complied with every command, and patiently bore 
every insult ; but never did any period of my life pass away so 
heavily ; from sunrise to sunset was I obliged to suffer, with unruf- 
fled countenance, the insults of the rudest savages on earth.' 

A council was held, to decide upon his disposal, when it was 
agreed to come to no decision until Fatima, their queen, had seen 
him. Meanwhile, his sufferings were intense. He was subjected to 
every torture, and it seemed the sole object of many to devise new 
plans to increase his misery. Sometimes they would neglect to send 
him his accustomed meals, and then his sufferings from hunger would 
15 



340 MUNGO PARK. 

wat 

scarce. AH had given him a skin, but when his boy went to fill it, 
he was driven away by the Moors with blows, for presumption in 
attempting to draw water from a well dug by the people of the 
prophet. 

" This treatment, at length, so frightened the boy, that I believe 
he would sooner have perished with thirst than attempt again to fill 
the skin ; he therefore contented himself with begg^hg water from 
the negro slaves that attended the camp, and I followed his example, 
but with very indifferent success; for though I let no opportunity 
slip, and was very urgent in my solicitations, both to Moors and ne- 
groes, I was but ill supplied, and frequently passed the night in the 
situation of Tantalus. No sooner had I shut my eyes, than fancy 
would convey me to the streams and rivers of my native land ; there, 
as I wandered along the verdant brink, I surveyed the clear stream 
with transport, and hastened to swallow a delightful draught; but 
alas! disappointment awakened me, and I found myself a lonely cap- 
tive, perishing of thirst amid the wilds of Africa!" 

" One night, being quite feverish, he walked out himself to the 
wells, and requested permission to drink, but was driven away with 
outrageous abuse. At last he came to one of them at which there 
was only an old man with two boys. The man drew him up a buck- 
et of water ; ' but, as I was about to take hold of it,' says Park, ' he 
recollected that I was a Christian, and fearing that his bucket might 
be polluted by my lips, he dashed the water into the trough, and 
told me to drink from thence. Though this trough was none of the 
largest, and the cows were already drinking in it, I resolved to come 
in for my share ; and kneeling, thrust my head between two of the 
cows, and drank with great pleasure until the water was nearly ex- 
hausted, and the cows began to contend with each other for the 
last mouthful.' " 

HIS ESCAPE. 

Ali, on a visit to Jarra, took Park in his train, and upon his de- 
parture from the town, left him there until he should return. Park 
was overjoyed at this, and determined to seize upon the opportunity 
for escaping. But, greatly to his despair, When Ali came to leave, he 
took his boy, Demba, with him, claiming him as his slave. In vain 



MUNGO PARK. 341 

did Park plead for the liberty of his faithful companion, but the 
Moorish tyrant was inexorable, and departed with the boy. But 
Park Avas led to hope that they might again meet, as Ali had pro- 
mised Daman, Park's friend at Jarra, that he might at any time pur- 
chase the boy. While in the town, news was brought that King 
Daisy, of Kaarta, was coming rapidly down on the town. 

" The terror of the townspeople, on this occasion," says Park, " is 
not easily to be described. Indeed, the screams of the women and 
children, and the great hurry and confusion that everywhere pre- 
vailed, made one suspect that the Kaartans had already entered the 
town — and, although I had every reason to be pleased with Daisy's 
behavior to me when I was at. Kommoo, I had no wish to expose 
myself to the mercy of his army, who might, in the general confu- 
sion, mistake me for a Moor. I therefore mounted my horse, and, 
taking a large bag of corn before me, rode slowly along with the 
townspeople until we reached the foot of a rocky hill, where I dis- 
mounted, and drove my horse up before me. When I reached the 
summit, I sat down, and, having a full view of the town and the 
neighboring country, could not help lamenting the situation of the 
poor inhabitants, who were thronging after me, driving their sheep, 
cows, goats, &c, and carrying a scanty portion of provisions and 
clothes. There was a great noise and crying everywhere upon the 
road, for many aged people and children were unable to walk ; and 
these, with the sick, were obliged to be carried, otherwise they must 
have been left to certain destruction." 

" The route which Park followed, with the inhabitants of Jarra in 
their flight, was to the east, or towards Bambarra, in continuation 
of his journey to the Niger. On the 1st July, as he was resting at 
Queira to recruit his horse, Ali's chief slave and four Moors arrived, 
and took up their lodging at the dooty's house. Through the agency 
of his interpreter, Johnson, (whom he had overtaken, flying from 
Jarra with Daman Jumma,) he learned from their conversation that 
they had been sent to take him back to Bubaker. In the evening, 
two of the Moors went privately to look at his horse ; one of them 
proposed to take it to the dooty's hut, but the other observed 
that the precaution was unnecessary, as the owner could never es- 
cape on such an animal. They then inquired where he slept, and re- 
turned. 



342 MUNGO PARK. 

" ' All this," says Park, ' was like a stroke of thunder to me, for I 
dreaded nothing so much as confinement again among the Moors.' 
He resolved to set off at once, and tried, but without success, to per- 
suade Johnson to accompany him. In the night he got ready his 
clothes, which consisted of two shirts, two pair of trousers, two pock- 
et-handkerchiefs, an upper and under waistcoat, and a pair of half 
boots. At daybreak, Johnson, who had been listening to the Moors 
all night, came and whispered to him that they were asleep. ' The 
awful crisis,' he says, ' was now arrived, when I was again either to 
taste the blessings of freedom, or languish out my days in captivity. 
A cold sweat moistened my forehead as I thought on the dreadful 
alternative, and reflected that, one way or the other, my fate must 
be decided in the course of the ensuing day. But to deliberate, was 
to lose the only chance of escaping. So, taking up my bundle, I 
6tepped gently over the negroes, who were sleeping in the open air, 
and, having mounted my horse, I bade Johnson farewell, desiring 
him to take particular care of the papers I had intrusted with him, 
and inform my friends in Gambia that he had left me in good health 
on my way to Bambarra.' 

" At a short distance from the town he heard somebody halloo be- 
hind him, and, looking back, he saw three Moors coming after him at 
full speed. Knowing escape to be impracticable, he turned to meet 
them, and received the dreaded intimation that he must go back to 
Ali. Despair had almost benumbed his faculties, and he followed his 
captors with apparent unconcern. After riding some distance, he was 
ordered to untie his bundle and show the contents ; there was nothing 
worth taking but his cloak, which one of the marauders wrapped 
about himself. This cloak, however, was greatly needed by our un- 
fortunate traveller, to shelter him from the rains by day and the mos- 
chetoes by night ; and he earnestly begged to have it returned. But 
the Moors then rode off, telling him that he must proceed no farther 
with them ; a pleasing injunction, even in such distress. 

" Congratulating himself upon having escaped with his life, Park 
turned his horse's head once more toward the east, and, soon regain- 
ing the path from which he had been taken, entered upon the deso- 
late wilderness which separates the kingdoms of Kaarta and Ludamar. 
'It is impossible,' he says, 'to describe the joy that arose in my mind 
when I looked around and concluded that I was out of danger. I 






MUNGO PARK. 343 

felt like one recovered from sickness ; I breathed freer ; 1 found un- 
usual lightness in my limbs ; even the desert looked pleasant ; and 1 
dreaded nothing so much as falling in with some wandering parties 
of Moors, who might convey me back to the land of thieves and mur- 
derers from which I had just escaped.' 

" But he soon became sensible that his situation was, in reality, de- 
plorable; not a single bead, nor any other article of value, wherewitk 
he might purchase food, remained in his possession, and he was cross- 
ing a sandy wilderness without water, under an African sun in July. 
A little after noon he became faint with thirst, and climbed a tree in 
the hope of descrying some sign of a human habitation ; but all around 
him were hillocks of white sand and thick underwood. In the after- 
noon he came upon a large herd of goats, tended by two Moorish 
boys, who showed him their empty skins, and told him they could 
find no water. His thirst became insufferable ; his mouth and throat 
were parched and inflamed ; to relieve the burning pain he chewed 
the leaves of different shrubs, but found them all bitter, and of no 
service to him. A little before sunset he climbed a high tree, and 
cast a melancholy look over the barren wilderness ; the same dismal 
uniformity of shrubs and sand everywhere presented itself, and the 
horizon was as level and uninterrupted as that of the sea. 

" ' Descending from the tree,' he says, ' I found my horse devour- 
ing the stubble and brushwood with great avidity ; and as I was now 
too faint to attempt walking, and my horse too fatigued to carry me, 
I thought it but an act of humanity, and, perhaps, the last I should 
have it in my power to perform, to take off his bridle and let him 
shift for himself; in doing which, I was suddenly affected with sick- 
ness and giddiness, and falling upon the sand, felt as if the hour of 
death was fast approaching. Here then, thought I, ' after a short 
but ineffectual struggle, terminate all my hopes of being useful in my 
day and generation. Here must my short span of life come to an 
end. I cast (as I believed) a last look on the surrounding scene, and 
while I reflected on the awful change that was about to take place, 
this world and all its enjoyments seemed to vanish from my recollec- 
tion. Nature, however, at length resumed its functions ; and on re- 
covering my senses, I found myself stretched upon the sand, with the 
bridle still in my hand, and the sun just sinking behind the trees. I 



344 MUNGO PARK. 

now summoned all my resolution, and determined to make anothei 
effort to prolong my existence.' 

"The evening was cool; and in about an hour he perceived light- 
ning in the northeast ; ' a delightful sign, for it promised rain.' In 
less than another hour he heard the wind roaring among the bushes, 
and had already opened his mouth to receive the refreshing drops 
which he expected, when a cloud of sand was driven forcibly against 
him, and he was obliged to mount his horse and stop under a bush to 
avoid being suffocated. Resuming his journey, he beheld, about ten 
o'clock, some very vivid flashes of lightning, which were followed by 
a few heavy drops of rain ; in a little time the sand ceased to fly, and 
alighting, he spread out all his clean clothes. For more than an hour 
it rained plentifully, ' and I quenched my thirst,' he says, ' by wring- 
ing and sucking my clothes.' 

" The night was very dark ; but, till past midnight, the flashes of 
lightning enabled him to direct his course by the compass. He was 
then under the necessity of groping along, ' to the no small danger 
of his hands and eyes.' About two o'clock his horse started, and, 
looking round, he saw a light at a short distance among the trees. 
Advancing cautiously, he heard, by the lowing of the cattle and the 
clamorous tongues of the herdsmen, that it was a watering-place, be- 
longing most likely to the Moors. 'Delightful,' he says, 'as the 
sound of the human voice wa? to me, I resolved once more to strike 
into the woods, and rather run the risk of perishing of hunger than 
trust myself again in their hands ; but being still thirsty, and dread- 
ing the approach of the burning day, I thought it prudent to search 
for the wells, which I expected to find at no great distance. In this 
pursuit, I inadvertently approached so near to one of the tents, as to 
be perceived by a woman, who immediately screamed out. Two 
people came running to her assistance from some of the neighboring 
tents, and passed so very near to me that I thought I was discovered, 
and hastened again into the woods.'" 

After some adventure he reached "Waiora, on the fifth of July. 
Here being secure from the Moors, and, in a friendly town, he re- 
solved to rest at this place, and recover, in some degree, from the ex- 
cessive fatigue which he had suffered. Leaving this place, he came 
to the town Wassitoo, and from thence through various villages, he 
reached the town of Sego, the capital of Bambarra. As he approached 



MUNGO PARK. 345 

this place lie received the gratifying intelligence that he would see 
the long sought Niger. At last, as he was crossing some swampy- 
ground, in company with some fifteen Kaartans, one of them cried 
out, " See the water :" and locking forward, he saw, with infinite 
pleasure, the great object of his mission — the long sought and majestic 
Niger, glittering to the morning sun, as broad as the Thames at West- 
minister, and flowing slowly to the eastward. " I hastened to the brink, 
and, having drank of the water, lifted up my fervant thanks in prayer 
to the Great Eider of all things for having thus far crowned my en- 
deavors with success." 

"Park had now accomplished one of the great objects of his expe- 
dition, in penetrating to the Niger, and it now became his design to, 
follow the course of that river until he should reach the far-famed city 
of Timbuctoo." 

ESCAPE FROM A LION. 
" On the 28th of July, as he was riding with his guide towards 
Modiboo, he had to pass through a district very much infested with 
lions. Here he saw a large animal of the camelopard kind. Shortly 
afterward, in crossing a large open plain, where there were a few 
scattered bushes, his guide, who was a little way before him, wheeled 
his horse round in a moment, calling out something in the Foulah 
language. ' I inquired, in Mandingo,' says Park, ' what he meant :' 
I Wara billi billi' (a very large lion), said he, and made signs for me to 
ride away. But my horse was too fatigued, so we rode slowly past 
the bush, from which the animal had given us alarm. Not seeing 
anything myself, however, I thought my guide had been mistaken 
when the Foulah suddenly put his hand to his mouth, exclaiming, 
' Soubah an AllahiF (Grod preserve us !) and, to my great surprise, I 
then perceived a great red lion at a short distance from the bush, 
with his head couched between his fore-paws. I expected he would 
instantly spring at me, and I instinctively pulled my feet from my 
stirrups to throw myself on the ground, that my horse might become 
the victim rather than myself. But it is probable the lion was not 
hungry ; for he quietly suffered us to pass, though we were fairly 
within his reach. My eyes were so riveted upon this sovereign of the 
beasts, that I found it impossible to remove them, until we were at a 
considerable distance.' " ■ 



346 MUNGO PARK. 



RETURNS WESTWARD. 



After proceeding for some distance, .and, meeting with great ob- 
stacles, his horse giving out, worn down by fever and hunger, on 
hearing unfavorable accounts of the Moors on his route, he resolved 
to retrace his steps to the westward. On the route back he recov- 
ered his horse, and found him quite restored and active. 

" On the 13th of August he passed Sego, having made a detour to 
avoid it; and, instead of here quitting the Niger, and striking off 
into the route by which he had advanced to it, he continued his 
course up the river along its northern bank. In his progress he en- 
countered dangers and hardships similar to those which he had 
already experienced in such abundance, from the natural difficulties 
of the country in this wet season, and from the inhospitality of the 
people. The Niger had risen to such a height as to overflow a great 
part of the flat land on both sides, and assume the appearance of an 
extensive lake ; and from the muddiness of the water it was difficult 
to discern its depth. In crossing one swamp, his horse, being up to 
the belly in water, slipped suddenly into a deep pit, and was almost 
drowned before his feet could be disengaged from the stiff clay at the 
bottom. Three several times, in the short space of ten days, he had 
to swim over deep creeks of the river with his horse's bridle between 
his teeth; and so full of mud was the road, that he speaks of the 
washing which his clothes got from the rain, and the heavy dew in 
the high grass, 'as sometimes pleasant, and oftentimes necessary.' 

" The limit of Park's progress along the Niger, towards the west- 
ward, or up the river, was the town of Bammakoo, near which he 
passed some rapids, of such strength that ' it would,' he thinks, 
' have been a matter of great difficulty for any European boat to have 
crossed the stream.' He reached that town on the 23d of August, 
and there became aware of such serious obstructions to his farther 
progress along the Niger that he struck off into a new route, which 
still conveyed him westward, but at some distance from the river. 
He passed the night of the 24th at the ' romantic village' of Koomi, 
and on the following morning departed for Sibidooloo, in company 
with two shepherds. But before he reached his destination, an ad- 
venture befel him which reduced him to a still lower stage of misery 
than he had yet reached." 



MUNGO PARK. 347 

He was attacked by banditti who robbed him of everything of 
value, leaving him only a shirt and a pair of trousers. "After they 
were gone," continues Park, " I sat for some time looking around me 
with amazement and terror. Whichever way I turned, nothing ap- 
peared but danger and difficulty. I saw myself in the midst of a 
vast wilderness, in the depth of the rainy season, naked and alone, 
surrounded by savage animals, and men still more savage. I was five 
hundred miles from the nearest European settlement. All these cir- 
cumstances crowded at once on my recollection, and I confess that 
my spirits began to fail me." 

SECOND EXPEDITION. 

After undergoing incredible hardships Park retraced his steps to 
Pisania, and sailed for England. But his active spirit could not long 
remain unemployed, and he beseeched the government to send him 
on another expedition to explore the Niger. This was granted, and 
on the third of January, 1805, he set out on his second journey. 
Again he plunged into the interior, and we find him contending 
against obstacles of the most fearful nature. He was accompanied by 
a numerous body of soldiers, but the penurious effects of the climate 
soon became apparent on them. All were more or less sick, and 
some died upon the road. They were also greatly incommoded by 
the wild beasts, and suffered much from frequent and severe torna- 
does. In the act of crossing the Wonda, Isaaco, the guide, was seized 
by a crocodile, but he escaped from him, though very much lacerated. 
At one time while proceeding on their course they heard a noise 
much like the barking of a large mastiff, but ending in a hiss. 

" Park thought that it must be a large monkey ; and was observ- 
ing to Mr. Anderson, ' What a bouncing fellow that must be,' when 
they heard another bark nearer to them, and presently a third still 
nearer, accompanied with a growl. ' I now suspected,' he says, 
' that some wild animal meant to attack us, but could not conjecture 
of what species it was likely to be. We had not proceeded a hundred 
yards farther, when, coming to an opening in the bushes, I was not 
a little surprised to see three lions coming towards us. They were 
not so red as the lion I formerly saw in Bambarra, but of a dusky 
color, like the color of an ass. They were very large, and came 



348. MUNGO PARK. 

bounding over the long grass, not one after another, but all abreast 
of each other. I was afraid, if I allowed them to come too near us, 
and my piece should miss fire, that we should be all devoured by them. 
I therefore let go the bridle, and walked forward to meet them. As 
soon as they were within a long shot of me, I fired at the centre one. 
I do not think I hit him, but they all stopped, looked at each other, 
and then bounded away a few paces, when one of them stopped and 
looked back at me. I was too busy in loading my piece to observe 
their motions as they went away, and was very happy to see the last 
of them march slowly off among the bushes. We had not proceeded 
above half a mile farther, when we heard another bark and growl 
close to us among the bushes. This was doubtless one of the lions 
before seen, and I was afraid they would follow us till dark, when 
they would have too many opportunities of springing on us unawares. 

I therefore got Mr. Anderson's call, and made as loud a whistling and 
noise as possible. We heard no more of them.' " 

At last they reached the Niger, and embarked on the river, stop- 
ping at Marraboo, Lamee, and Sansanding, where all knowledge of* 
the expedition terminates. From this place he wrote several letters 
the last that were received from him. For some time after the date 
of the letters, nothing was heard of the expedition. "In the course 
of the year 1806 vague reports were brought to the British settle- 
ments on the coast by the native traders from the interior of Africa, 
to the effect that Park and his companions had been killed. Tears 
passed on and the rumors increased, though no distinct accounts upon 
the subject could be obtained ; till at length Colonel Maxwell, the 
governor of Senegal, obtained permission from the British govern- 
ment to send a proper person to procure some more precise informa- 
tion. For this service he was fortunately able to engage Isaaco, who 
had been Park's guide from the Gimbia, and who had brought back 
his letters and Journal from Sansanding. 

" Isaaco left Senegal in January, 1810, and on the 1st of Septem- 
ber, 1811, returned thither, with a full confirmation of the reports 
concerning Park's death. At Fadina, near Sansanding, he met with 
Amadi Fatouma, the very guide whom he had recommended to Park 
to accompany him on l^s voyage from Sansanding down the Niger. 

I I sent for him,' says Isaaco, ' he came immediately. I demanded 
of him a faithful account of what had happened to Mr. Park. On 



MUNGO PARK. 349 

seeing me, and hearing me mention Mr. Park, he began to weep, and 
his first words were, ' They are all dead.' I said, ' I am come to see 
after you, and intended to look every way for you, to know the truth 
from your own mouth, how they died.' He said that they w,ere lost 
forever, and that it was useless to make any farther inquiry after 
them ; for to look after what was irrecoverably lost was losing time 
to no purpose.' 

" According to the account of Amadi Fatouma, Park left Sansand- 
ing in the canoe with Lieutenant Martyn, three other white men, 
three slaves, and himself as guide and interpreter. He describes the 
voyage of the party down the river, past Jinnie, through Lake Dib- 
bie, and past Kabra, the port of Timbuctoo, into the kingdom of Ha- 
oussa. On entering this country Amadi Fatouma's engagement was 
at an end ; but, at Park's request, he remained two days longer with 
the party, and accompanied them down the river as far as Yaour or 
X~aoorie. Throughout the voyage they were constantly exposed to 
the hostility of the natives. ' We lost one white man by sickness,' 
says the guide ; ' we were reduced to eight hands, having each of us 
fifteen muskets, always in order and ready for action.' The natives 
repeatedly attacked them in canoes, and were repeatedly repulsed 
with great loss of life. Preferring to one encounter, the guide says, 
' Seeing so many men killed, and our superiority over them, I took 
hold of Martyn's hand, saying, Martyn, let us cease firing, for wo 
have killed too many already ;' on which Martyn wanted to kill me, 
had not Mr. Park interfered. 

" At Yaoorie, Amadi Fatouma was sent on shore with a musket 
and sabre for the chief, to whom also he took several presents for the 
king. The chief asked him if the white men intended to come back ; 
and Park being informed of this inquiry, replied that he could not re- 
turn any more. It is supposed that this reply induced the chief to 
withhold the presents from the king, and that the anger thereby ex- 
cited in the king's mind against the white men led to the last and 
fatal attack upon them. The catastrophe is thus recorded by Amadi 
Fatouma. 

" Next day (Saturday,) Mr. Park departed, and I slept in the vil- 
lage (Yaour.) Next morning I went to the king to pay my respects 
to him ; on entering the house I found two men who came on horse- 



350 MUNGO PARK. 

back ; they were sent by the chief of Yaour. The) said to the king, 
' We are sent by the chief of Yaour to let you know that the white 
men went away without giving you or him (the chief) anything ; 
they have a great many things with them, and we- -have received 
nothing from them ; and this Amadi Fatouma, now before you, is a 
bad man, and has likewise made a fool of you both.' The king imme- 
diately ordered me to be put in irons, which was accordingly done, 
and everything I had taken from me ; some were for killing me, and 
some for preserving my life. The next morning early, the king sent 
an army to a village called Boussa, near the river side. There is be- 
fore this village a rock across the full breadth of the river. One part 
of that rock is in the form of a door, which is the only passage for the 
water to pass through ; the tide-current is here very strong. The 
army went and took possession of this opening. Mr. Park came there 
after the army had posted itself; he nevertheless attempted to pass. 
The people began to attack him, throwing lances, pikes, arrows, and 
stones. Mr. Park defended himself for a long time ; two of his slaves 
at the stern of the canoe were killed ; they threw everything they 
had in the canoe into the river, and kept firing ; but, being overpow- 
ered by numbers and fatigue, and unable to keep up the canoe against 
the current, and no probability of escaping, Mr. Park took hold of one 
of the white men and jumped into the water ; Martyn did the same, 
and they were drowned in the stream in attempting to escape. The 
only slave remaining in the boat seeing the natives throwing weapons 
at the canoe without ceasing, stood up, and said to them, ' Stop throw- 
ing now; you see nothing in the canoe, and nobody but myself, 
therefore cease. Take me and the canoe, but don't kill me.' They 
took possession of the canoe and the man, and carried them to the 
king. 

" I was kept in irons three months ; the king released me and gave 
me a slave (woman.) I immediately went to the slave taken in the 
canoe, who told me in what manner Mr. Park had died, and what I 
have related above. I asked him if he was sure nothing had been 
found in the canoe after its capture ; he said that nothing remained 
in the canoe but himself and a sword-belt. I asked him where the 
sword-belt was ; he said the king took it, and made a girth for hi-' 
horse with it." 



BONAPARTE. 351 

Such was the account, which after many years, was conveyed to 
England concerning the termination of this expedition. Its credibili- 
ty was impugned by many persons, but of late years, the account in 
all its material features has been amply confirmed. 



INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF BONAPARTE. 

The history of men so . eminent as Bonaparte, rarely present any- 
thing that may strictly be classed as adventure. The history of Na- 
poleon is the most extraordinary on record, but, while it embraces 
events of the greatest magnitude, and Europe to this day is thrilled 
with wonder and astonishment at the greatness of his deeds, yet do 
we find but little in his career that can be strictly admitted in this work 
appropriate to its object and to its title. A life full of vicissitude and 
incident ; stormy, adventurous, conquering ; at one time suffering 
on the parched sands of Egypt, at another undergoing the fatigues of 
the commonest soldier amid the snows of Russia ; overturning govern- 
ments, creating new ones ; an obscure scholar, an unknown lieute- 
nant, a triumphant general, an ambitious consul, and a conquerring 
Emperor ; at one time the terror of Europe, nations falling beneath 
his sword, and crowns the gifts which he bestows upon his favorites, 
at another time fleeing before his enemies, dethroned, an exile, and 
then a new revolution with fresh victories and another overthrow, 
an exile again upon a desert island, — his whole career was one grand, 
spirit-stirring, and marvellous adventure ! But the battles that he 
won, and the deeds he enacted were accomplished by mighty armies, 
moved and swayed by his master spirit, but still in the terrible scenes 
performed his personal adventures scarcely equalled those of the low- 
est subaltern in the ranks ; and as it is only personal adventure and in- 
cident, that we can properly, in consistence with its design, admit 
into this book, the sketch that follows, we fear, will be found meagre 
compared with the greatness of the subject. 

Napoleon in his youth was silent and retiring, and of an exceed- 
ingly in-it able and melancholy temperament. He was not fond of 
companionship or play, but at a very early age evinced a fondness in 



352 BONAPARTE. 

the recital of battles, and in the history of desperate encounters and 
courageous adventures. When ten years of age, he was admitted 
into the military school at Brienne, at Paris. Here he applied him- 
self assiduously to study, mathematics and history being his principal 
and favorite pursuits. The different sciences, particularly those re- 
lating to Engineering, were studied with an intense application, and 
everj'thing that related to the science of war, he evinced an especial 
fondness for. In the winter of 1784, an unusual quantity of snow 
fell, and as the students could find but little amusement within 
doors, Napoleon proposed as a recreation, that they should erect ex- 
tensive fortifications of snow. He understood the science of fortifica- 
tion, and therefore superintended the erection of the works, which 
were executed with the strictest regard to the rules of the art. It 
became quite a curiosity and many people visited it. He now divided 
the school into two divisions, one to act as the besieging party, and 
the other to defend the works, himself alternately commanding one 
party, then the other. For several weeks a mimic warfare was car- 
ried on, but always with every regard to military rules. Both in de- 
fending the works, and in leading the besiegers he manifested a skill 
and resolution that was much commented upon at the time. He 
exacted from his inferior officers, the most rigorous obedience. In 
the heat of one of the battles, while volleys of snow balls were flying 
thick and fast, a subordinate officer ventured to disobey his orders, 
when he instantly felled him to the earth. By such occupations did 
the young Napoleon evince his ambitious and warlike nature. 

He remained five years at Brienne, at the termination of which 
time he entered the military school at Paris. Soon after this, when 
but sixteen years of age, he received an appointment as second lieu- 
tenant in a regiment of artillery. 

In 1793, Napoleon, then twenty years of age, on furlough, visited 
his native Island of Corsica. While here he was urged to take part 
in a conspiracy to give up the island to England, but he resisted all 
entreaties, which had additional force from being made by an old and 
valued friend, and resolved to defeat the enterprise. Ashe was riding 
home from the interview with his friend, he entered a wild ravine, when 
suddenly he found himself surrounded by a party of mountaineers, in 
the employ of his enemies, and taken prisoner. By stratagem he es- 
caped, and placing himself at the head of a battalion of the National 



BONAPA.RTE. 353 

G-uard, hostilities commenced. The English were admitted into the 
island, but one night he guided his troops through the darkness to 
the intrenchments of the English, surprised them in their sleep, and 
obtained possession of the fort in which they were garrisoned. But 
he was immediately surrounded by the English and Corsicans, and 
although, for several days he defended the place with great valor, 
during which time his troops suffered greatly from hunger, and were 
obliged to slay their horses for food, he eventually was compelled to 
abandon the fort, and as the island was now in possession of the En- 
glish, he was compelled to disband his forces, and seek safety for him- 
self and family. A decree was passed banishing his family from the 
island, and one morning news was brought to them that a crowd of 
peasants were on the march to attack the house. The reader will re- 
member that Corsica was originally independent, and had but recently 
been united to France, which union the people opposed, and had 
availed themselves of the promises of the English, and given up pos- 
session to them. They therefore resented the endeavors of certain of 
the inhabitants to preserve their connection with France. The family 
fled hastily before the fury of the mob, and for several days wandered 
houseless and destitute on the sea-shore, until they could leave the 
island. One night an open boat, with muffled oars, pushed from the 
shore. It contained the Bonaparte family flying from their home. 
They reached a small vessel in the offing, and when the morning sun 
arose upon the scene, they were far from the scene of their birth. 

Many thousands of the nobility of France had taken refuge in 
Toulon, a city situated on the Mediterranean, and uniting with the 
royalist inhabitants, had delivered the city up to the combined En- 
glish and Spanish fleet, which was stationed outside its harbor. To 
obtain possession of Toulon became an object of vast importance to 
the committee of safety. An army invested it, and Napoleon served 
as commander of the artillery. It was here that first dawned his 
greatness. It was by his suggestions and military knowledge that 
the place eventually fell into the hands of the Republican army. Du- 
ring the different assaults, he had several horses shot from under him, 
and on one occasion he received a bayonet wound in his thigh so 
severe that it was feared amputation would be necessary. One day 
while standing by one of the batteries, a cannoneer was shot dead at 
his side. Bonaparte seized the ramrod, which had fallen out of his 






354 BONAPARTE. 

hands, and assumed the fallen soldier's place. On another occasion 
he wished to write an order, and a private stepping out from the 
ranks, rested the paper upon his breast-work, and began to write as 
he was dictated. Scarcely was the letter finished, when a cannon 
ball striking near him, covered the paper and his person with earth. 
" G-ood" said the writer, " we shall not want sand this time." This 
remark arrested the attention of Napoleon. He examined the man 
carefully, and struck with his bearing, as well as with his intrepid 
coolness, said, "Young man! what can I do for you?" The soldier 
replied, touching his left shoulder with his hand, " Everything. You 
can change this worsted into an epaulette!" Napoleon's interest was 
excited, and this man became afterwards one of Bonaparte's most 
celebrated marshals. It was Junot. 

While Napoleon was on the southern shore of France, he had at 
one time repaired an old prison near Marseilles, for use as a powder 
magazine. This act was absurdly made the foundation for a charge 
against him before the convention, in which he was accused of plan- 
ning to erect a second bastile in which to imprison patriotic citizens. 
He was arrested and brought before the Committee of Public safety, 
and an arrest by that tribunal was almost certain to end in death. 
An explanation was made of the fact, and he was set at liberty, but 
the committee could not release even an innocent man without ma- 
king him to feel the weight of their power. He was deprived of his 
command in the artillery, and assigned to a post in the infantry. 
This the young Napoleon resented as an insult, and he threw up his 
commission. His situation now became harrassing. His funds soon 
failed him, and he daily received letters from his family in Marseilles 
complaining of their almost utter destitution. One night, destitute, 
desponding and gloomy, with his spirits oppressed by the weight of 
his sorrows, he wandered along the banks of the river, tempted to 
end his misery by suicide, and yet reflecting on the unmanliness of 
such an act. The intense depression of his spirits, so common to 
those of his nature, suspended the faculties of his brain, and he was 
about to yield to the temptation of throwing himself in the water, 
when he ran against an individual, whom he recognized as an old 
friend and comrade. Observing his dejected manner, his new found 
friend earnestly importuned him as to the cause. Napoleon evaded 
the question, but his friend urged him with so much warmth, that he 



BONAPARTE. 355 

confessed his necessities. His friend immediately put in his hand a 
sum of money, equal to six thousand dollars. " I cannot" said Na- 
poleon, " to this day explain how I could have been willing to re- 
ceive the money, but I seized the gold as by a convulsive movement, 
and, almost frantic with excitement, ran to send it to my distressed 
mother." He did not see his friend again for fifteen years. When 
he came into fame, he made every exertion to discover his retreat, 
and when at last he ferreted him out, he presented him with sixty 
thousand dollars as an imperial reimbursement for the six thousand 
lent to his comrade in distress. 

The National Convention had adopted a new constitution which 
was tendered to the people, and adopted by them. But the Jacobins 
aud other discontented parties were resolved to overthrow the conven- 
tion and gathered arms and implements of war to effect their pur- 
pose. The National Guard joined the insurgents, and the convention 
had only a body of five thousand troop to protect them. General 
Menou was sent to arrest the progress of the insurgents, but was 
driven back by them. The convention was now in great danger. 
Barras was called to the command. He hesitated, for the office was 
full of peril, when suddenly he recollected Napoleon, whom he knew 
well, and whose energy of character he well appreciated. He said 
to the Convention, "I know the man who can defend us, if any one 
can. He is one who will not stand upon ceremony, I witnessed his 
abilities at Toulon." He introduced Napoleon to the convention, who 
expected to see an imperious and imposing looking soldier, but in- 
stead there appeared before them a small, slender, pale faced youth. 
To the question whether he was willing to undertake the defence 
be laconically replied, "Yes!"' "Are you aware of the magnitude 
of the undertaking ?" said the president. "Perfectly," rejoined Na- 
poleon, " and I always accomplish that which I undertake." Im- 
pressed with his calm and imperturable manner the command was 
entrusted to him. He immediately despatched some dragoons to 
bring up a park of artillery, which were loaded with grape shot, and be 
placed in such a way as to sweep all the avenues leading to the con- 
vention. The next day the citizens in great masses marched upon 
the convention. They did not suppose that the troops would have 
the hardihood to fire upon the citizens of Paris. They discharged 
some muskets upon the troops, and rushed upon them, but the signal 



356 BONAPARTE. 

was given, and in an instant each battery belched forth a shower of 
grape shot that mowed down the mob in masses. They fled in 
every direction. The troops pursued them, firing blank cartridges, 
until their formidable body were all dispersed, and thus Napoleon 
established the new government of France, called the Directory. In 
consequence of this act he was appointed Commander-in-chief of the 
army of the Interior. 

The position of Napoleon was now one of vast responsibility. The 
populace were in an unsettled state, and ripe for revolutions. In re- 
pressing the disorders that arose, he manifested great skill and firm- 
ness. Sometimes it was necessary to exercise his power, while often 
he would disperse the crowd by his good humor and pithy remarks. 
On one occasion a fish woman, of enormous rotundity of person, was 
vehemently exhorting the crowd, exclaiming, " Never mind these 
coxcombs with epaulefts upon their shoulders ; they care not if we 
poor people all starve, if they can but feed and grow fat" Napo- 
leon, who was as thin as a shadow, said, " Look at me, my good wo- 
man, and tell me which of us two is the fatter." Eoars of laughter 
from the crowd completely disconcerted the amazon. 

The army of Italy was in a forlorn and destitute state, and was 
threatened with destruction. The Directory appointed Napoleon to 
the command. He hastened to the army and placed himself at its 
head. They were without clothing or food, but Napolen immediate- 
ly issued a proclamation stating that in a few days they should be 
revelling amid the plains of Italy. He inspired the ranks with his 
own energy, and soon after his arrival he achieved the victory of 
Montenotte. This was followed up by others, and in fifteen days lie 
fought and won six battles. All Europe was electrified, and France 
rang with his praises. His name hitherto comparatively unknown, 
was on every tongue, and already his fame was placed on an imper- 
ishable height. 

His career of conquest continued. On the 10th of May, 170G was 
fought the celebrated and sanguinary battle at the bridge of Lodi. 
The Austrian army were strongly entrenched on one side of the 
bridge, which was six hundred feet in length and thirty in width. 
Napoleon resolved to cross the bridge and dislodge the Austrians. It 
was a desperate effort, as the whole of the enemy's artillery swept 
the bridge, and the attempt was looked upon as rash and daring in 



BONAPARTE. 357 

the extreme. But the youthful general was not to be daunted. The 
attack was ordered, and the moment the French column reached the 
bridge, a terrible discharge from the enemy, sweeping the entire 
structure, mowed them down, whole ranks at a time. Still the column 
passed on, heedless of the terrible carnage, struggling over the piles 
of dead, and manly, vainly striving to force the bridge. It wavered, 
hesitated, and was about to flee before a fire too fearful to encounter, 
when Napoleon, seizing a standard, and exclaiming " Follow your 
General" rushed upon the bridge. With a shout thf y followed him, 
and amid the wild carnage, and in the face of the iron storm they im- 
petuously rushed on, with their general at their head, and the bridge 
was carried. In a career marked by the most sanguinary battles on 
record, the passage of Lodi has ever ranked as the most daring and 
terrible of them all. 

On one occasion during this campaign he narrowly escaped falling 
into the hands of the Austrians. He was pursuing the enemy, and 
had crossed the river Mincio, where a body of them were entrenched. 
He was sick that day, suffering from a violent head-ache. Having 
concerted all his plans he went into an old building on the river's 
side, for the purpose of taking a foot-bath, in order to allay the pain 
with which he was suffering. He had just placed his feet in tne 
water when he heard the cry of " To Arms !" at the same time that 
a loud clatter of horse's hoofs announced that a company of the ene- 
my's dragoons had entered the court-yard. Hastily drawing on one 
boot, and with the other in his hand, he leaped from the window, es- 
caped through a back gate of the garden, mounted a horse and gal- 
lopped to Massena's division. This adventure induced him to esta- 
blish a body-guard, which afterwards became so distinguished as the 
Imperial Guard. 

A second Austrian army had accumulated in the North, numbering 
sixty thousand, and under the command of the veteran general Wurm- 
zer, was sweeping down upon the French. Napoleon had but 
thirty thousand, and his friends were consequently in dismay, expect- 
ing his certain destruction by so overwhelming a force, while the 
Austrians exulted over their anticipated victories. The Austrian 
commander as he looked upon his mighty army, complacently ex- 
claimed, "We shall have the boy now!" In six days this whole vast 
army was entirely routed, forty thousand were dead or prisoners 



358 BONAPARTE 

while twenty thousand, exhausted, ragged and dejected fugitives es- 
caped among the mountains of the Tyrol. This was accomplished in 
three distinct battles. The Austrian army had descended from the 
mountains in three different divisions, of twenty thousand each. By 
movements of the most astonishing rapidity Napoleon fell suddenly 
upon each division in detail and defeated them. So rapid were his 
movements that five horses fell dead beneath him from utter exhaus- 
tion. 

During this campaign at one time Napoleon came near being made 
prisoner. In pursuing the retreating Austrians he had entered a 
email village accompanied only by his staff and guards. A division 
of the Austrians, hovering near, came upon them and surrounded 
them. They sent an officer to demand the surrender of the French. 
He was blindfolded, and brought into the presence of Napoleon. 
When the bandage was removed, to his astonishment, he found him- 
self in the presence of the commander-in-chief of the French armies. 
'What means this insult?" said Napoleon indignantly. "Have you, 
the insolence to bring a summons of surrender to the French com- 
mander in the midst of his army ? Say to those who sent you, that 
unless in five minutes they surrender, every man shall be put to 
death." Deceived by this air of confidence the officer hastened back 
to his ranks and represented that they were surrounded by the en- 
tire French army. They threw down their arms, when they soon 
had the mortification of learning that they had surrendered to one- 
fourth of their own number, while they had lost a chance of making 
prisoner the great general who was wreaking such destruction upon 
their countrymen. 

It was about this time that, one night, as Napoleon in disguise was 
going the rounds of the sentinels to ascertain if proper vigilance was 
observed, when he met a soldier, whom he attempted to pass. The 
soldier immediately presented his bayonet, and ordered him back. 
" I am a general officer," said Napoleon " going the rounds to ascer- 
tain if all is safe." "I cannot" the soldier replied, "my commands 
are to let no one go by ; and if you were the Little Corporal himself 
you should not pass." Napoleon had been christened by his army 
" The Little Corporal." He was obliged to return, but the next day 
he sent for the soldier, praised his fidelity, and promoted him. 

In a short time another army of fifty thousand men were march- 



BONAPARTE. 361 

ing down upon Napoleon. Again he fell upon them in detail, and 
in ten days the whole formidable force of his enemy were routed. 
The Austrian generals were bewildered by the new and extraordi- 
nary tactics adopted by the young French commander. His man- 
ner of proceeding was foreign to all their pre-conceived notions of 
war. He would accumulate his whole force on one division, beat 
that, suddenly and unexpectedly fall upon another, be victorious 
again, and thus, before the Austrian leaders could well plan a mode 
of proceeding, they would be flying for safety. Several times du- 
ring the Italian war, did his enemies confidently anticipate his over- 
throw and annihilation, but as many times did he and his little army, 
scatter the mighty hosts that were surrounding to crush him. 

With him, everything was accomplished by rapidity of action. His 
own eagerness and restless energy was so great, that he would often 
find himself far in advance of the main body of the army. The night 
before the Battle of Bassano, such an instance occurred. He was 
worn down with fatigue, and had received no food during the day. 
A soldier had a crust of bread in his knapsack. He broke it in two, 
and gave his exhausted and half famished general one-half. After 
partaking of this frugal supper, he wrapped his cloak around Mm, and 
threw himself on the ground, by the side of the soldier, for an hour's 
repose. Ten years after this, the soldier, when Napoleon was re- 
viewing his regiment, stepped out from the ranks, reminded him of 
the circumstance, and asked for bread for his father, who was worn 
down with age and poverty. Napoleon promoted the man to a 
lieutenancy, and assisted his destitute parent. 

After the Battle of Bassano, in the eagerness of pursuit, Napoleon 
entered a small village, accompanied only by a few followers. Al- 
most immediately after him, there entered a large body of Austrian 
soldiers, who were informed by a peasant woman, that a moment be- 
fore Napoleon had passed her cottage. Parties of cavalry were im- 
mediately despatched in pursuit, and so sure was the Austrian gene- 
ral of securing the person of his victorious enemy, that he gave orders 
he should be taken alive. But the fleetness of Napoleon's horse saved 
him. 

In one of these battles, when Napoleon in his eagerness had thrust 
himself forward with great" peril, a soldier placed himself before him, 
exclaiming, " Stand aside." Napoleon looked at him with astonish- 

is 



362 BONAPARTE. 

merit, when the man with his arm pushed him away, saying, 
" If thou art killed, who is to rescue us from this jeopardy ?" Napo- 
leon uttered no reproof, but after the battle, he summoned the man 
before him. Placing his hand upon his shoulder, he said, li My 
friend, your noble boldness claims my esteem. Your bravery de- 
mands a recompense. From this hour an epaulette instead of a 
hatchet shall grace your shoulder." 

Defeated, but still determined, the Austrians gathered another 
army in the North, which rushed down upon the plains of Italy. 
But again they were defeated, and sent flying back to their retreats. 
Another and a fifth army was formed, each army still vastly out- 
numbering that of Napoleon's, but the star of Bonaparte was still in 
the ascendant ; and in three days, in two pitched battles, they were 
again defeated and scattered. He seemed invincible. The world 
was astonished at a military career unparalleled for brilliancy in the 
history of the world. 

The battle of Areola was a terribly hard fought contest. The 
French had but thirteen thousand troops, while the Austrians num- 
bered forty thousand. In the centre of a wide morass was the vil- 
lage of Areola, approached only by narrow dykes. Through the mo- 
rass ran a stream, crossed by a small wooden bridge. Here the Aus- 
trians were stationed, and to dislodge them was a matter of necessi- 
ty. The French column moved along the dykes, and rushed upon 
the bridge. Instantly the head of the column sunk into the ground, 
before the terrib-le discharge from the Austrian ranks. The column 
staggered and fell back. Napoleon sprung from his horse, seized a 
standard, and, exclaiming, " Conquerors of Lodi ! follow your gene- 
ral I" he rushed upon the bridge, in the midst of a tempest of shot, 
and planted the standard. But the fire became terrifically violent, 
the iron storm swept over the bridge, which was enveloped in the 
densest smoke, and the grenadiers, confused and staggered, seized 
their general in their arms, and bore him back amid the smoke, the 
dead and the dying. In the tumult, they weie forced over the dyke, 
and Napoleon was plunged in the mire, where, foran instant, he was 
surrounded by his enemies. The soldiers perceiving their chieftain 
gone, cried out, " Forward to save your general," and rushing upon 
the Austrians, drove them back, and extricated Napoleon from his 
nerilous situation. At a later period of the conflict his horse became 



BONAPARTE. 363 

wounded, rnd frantic with pain, he rushed directly into the midst of 
the Austrian ranks, plunged into the morass, and Napoleon was left 
struggling in the swamp, almost suffocated with mire, and rapidly 
sinking to an inglorious grave. In the confusion of the battle he es- 
caped attention, until his own troops gallantly rushed forward and 
rescued him, for the second time, from a situation of danger. 

The Battle of Rivoli, was another obstinately contested engage- 
ment. Napoleon had three horses shot under him. At one time 
during the conflict, his destruction seemed inevitable, and he was 
only saved by his presence of mind and decision. He was surround- 
ed, and in a moment more he would be lost. Time was necessary 
to gain it ; he despatched a fiag of truce to the Austrians, asking for 
a half hour's suspension of arms, to attend to some important des- 
patches just received from Pari3. It was granted. Napoleon extri- 
cated his army, the battle was resumed, and he was victorious. 

The very night after the battlp Napoleon started with his army to 
overtake another division of the Austrians. He allowed his troops 
only a few hours sleep, while he took none himself. He passed the 
hours of the night in walking about the outposts. At one of them 
he found a sentinel, so exhausted with fatigue, that he had fallen 
asleep at the foot of a tree. Napoleon took his gun and performed 
his duty. When the man awoke, he was astonished at the occupa- 
tion of his general, and terrified at the anticipated penalty, fell pros- 
trate upon his knees. " My brave friend," said Napoleon, "here is 
your musket. You have marched long, and fought hard, and your 
sleep is excusable. But a moments' inattention at the present time 
might ruin the army. I happened to be awake and have held the 
post for you. You will be more careful another time." It was by 
incidents of a similar nature to this that Napoleon became the pas- 
sionately adored idol of the army. 

The Directory, unwisely, resolved to send an army to Egypt, to 
seize upon that country, and thence attack the British possessions' 
in India. Napoleon was appointed to the command. . His fortune 
did not forsake him, and he was still victorious, Cairo soon fell into 
his hands, and he pushed his way towards Syria, When he first 
came in sight of the pyramids, he exclaimed, "From the top of these 
pyramids, forty ages behold us ?" 

On the 28th of December, 1798, with his staff he crossed the Red 
16 



364 BONAPARTE. 

Sea at a ford near Suez, and in returning, the water was so high, that 
he was obliged to ascend to another ford. In doing so, they crossed 
some marshes, where the guide lost his way, and they narrowly es- 
caped drowning. They were sometimes up to the middle in water, 
but they at last escaped from their danger. After taking Alexandria 
and Cairo, he marched an army into Asia, with the assumed purpose 
of restoring the Jews, and laid seige to Acre. At this siege a shell 
fell close to Bonaparte's feet. Two soldiers who were near him in- 
stantly seized and closely embraced him before and behind, thus ef- 
fectually making a rampart of their bodies, and in this posture held 
him until the shell exploded, which, though, it covered them all with 
sand, did no injury. 

The fatigues and privations of the army in Egypt were very great. 
Napoleon always shared them with the soldiers, and they were often 
so great that they would contend with each other for the most tri- 
fling comforts. On one occasion, in the desert, the soldiers would 
scarcely allow the general to dip his hands in a muddy stream of 
water. Once, when almost suffocated with heat, and overcome with 
the burning rays of the sun, a soldier gave him a fragment of an 
ancient door-way, with which he contrived to shade his head for a 
few minutes; " and this" said Napoleon, "was no trifling favor." 

Learning that affairs in France were in a distracted state, he placed 
the army under the command of Gen. Kleber, and sailed from Egypt. 
The voyage was accomplished with great difficulty, as the seas were 
crowded with English fleets. His arrival in France was unexpected, 
but created great joy. The country was agitated by dissensions, and 
the government was weak and imbecile. Disturbances within and 
war without. The conquests of Napoleon in Italy had been wrested 
from the Republic in the short interval of his absence. Disgusted 
with the imbecility of the Directory, he overthrew it, established a 
new constitution with himself at the head of affairs, quelled the in- 
surrections at home, and marched an army into Italy and at the bat- 
tle of Marengo restored his conquests and overthrew the enemies of 
France. All this was accomplished within six months. 

After his conquests in Italy he returned to Paris, and during his 
sojourn, there occurred the well known attempt to assassinate him 
by means of the "Infernal machine." He was proceeding in his 
carriage to the opera, through the Rue "St, Nicasil; an overturned 



BONAPARTE. 365 

coach in that narrow thoroughfare almost obstructed the passage, but 
the coachman skilfully passed it without stopping. Scarcely had he 
passed it when a terrific explosion was heard, which shattered all the 
windows of the carriage, struck down one of the guard, and killed and 
wounded a large number among a crowd of citizens, who had gather- 
ed to watch the First Consul ride by. Napoleon without stopping, 
drove on to the opera. The citizens were in great consternation, as 
the report was so loud it was heard in all parts of the city, and great 
fears were entertained for the safety of Napoleon. But when he wa3 
seen to enter unhurt into the theatre, and the news of his narrow es- 
cape spread around, thunders of applause shook the walls of the 
building. This diabolical attempt to destroy him was charged upon 
the Jacobins. 

Other attempts were made to assassinate the First Consul. One 
plan was to stab him as he entered the theatre, but as the police got 
wind of the affair, it was thwarted. Napoleon went to the theatre 
with the police, and passed through the conspirators, some of whom 
he personally knew. They were arrested, and daggers were found 
concealed about their person. 

In 1804, Napoleon was crowned Emperor of France, and shortly 
after war was declared between France and England. This was fol- 
lowed by the memorable campaign of Austerlitz. From this cam- 
paign until the final overthrow of Napoleon, Europe was convulsed 
with war, and during this period were undertaken the most gigantic 
enterprises, and were fought the mightiest battles the history of the 
world affords. The war was no longer confined to the plains of Italy 
or the sands of Egypt, but the whole of Europe became one vast 
battle field, and from the snow mountains of Sweden, to the waters 
of the Mediterranean, was heard the cry of war, and the. shock of 
armies. 

The night before the battle of Jena, Napoleon was exposed to 
great danger. He had approached the bivouacs of the Prussians in 
the dark, with the intention of reconnoitering them, and was only 
accompanied by a few officers. The French army were on the alert 
anticipating a night attack from the enemy, and as Napoleon was 
returning, he, through mistake, was fired at by the sentinel in his 
own camp, which signal was followed by the whole fine ; and Napo- 



366 BONAPARTE. 

leon had no choice but to throw himself upon the grouna until the 
mistake was discovered. 

At the battle of Eylau he came near falling into the hands of the 
Cossacks. His army had been defeated and was retreating into the 
village of Eylau rapidly pursued by the Russian cavalry. He himself 
was stationed near a church, on the steeple and walls of which the 
enemy's cannons were incessantly playing. Presently a Russian di- 
vision entered the street, an I charge! directly up to the foot of the 
mount where the Emperor stood with his guard of a hundred men. 
Had they knew how near he stood, a very little decision and ener- 
getic action would have secured to them the much coveted prize. In 
this moment when his fate hung by a thread, his presence of mind 
did not forsake him. His little body guard formed a line to check the 
advance of the enemy, while he despatched messengers in hot naste 
to the Old Guard ordering them to come up to his rescue. His little 
neroic band covered the Emperor's presence until the Russians were 
charged by a brigade of Murats' horse, and put to flight. 

In the operations against Rattsbon the Emperor approached so 
near the walls that a musket-ball struck him on the foot, and occa- 
sioned a considerable contusion. '"The pain obliged him to dismount 
from his horse ; the report spread that the Emperor was wounded ; 
and instantly the soldiers broke from their rank-, and crowded around 
their beloved chief. Regardless of the cannon balls which fell in the 
dense group, fifteen thousand men of all arms hastened to the spot, 
every one forgetting his own danger in the intense anxiety concern- 
ing their general's' welfare. After a few minutes he was enabled to 
mount his horse, as the wound was foun 1 to be inconsiderable, and a 
rapturous cheer from the warlike multitude announced the joyful 
event to the army. 

Two days before the ratification of the treaty of Yienna, Napoleon 
was in danger of assassination. During the review of the troops upon 
the parade at Schoenbum, a young man, who had been concealed 
among the crowd of spectators, rushed suddenly upon the Emperor, 
attempting to strike him with a poinard. The prince of Neufchatel 
arrested his arm, and the assassin was rnme liately seized. Napoleon 
evinced no excitement, and continued to order the evolutions as if 
nothing of importance had occurred. 

In the celebrated and terrible retreat from Moscow, Napoleou 



BONAPATtTE. 367 

shared with, his army all their hardships and sufferings. On one oc- 
casion he came near being taken prisoner by the Cossacks. After 
the battle of Malo-Jaroslawitz, he rode out to examine the ground, 
and was advancing amid a confused mass of baggage wagons and 
artillery, when suddenly a huge body of Cossacks were observed to 
be dashing towards the spot with the intention of seizing the park of 
artillery. It was by the merest chance the emperor escaped. Many 
of his guard were struck down, and although the remainder formed 
around him, and opposed their sabres to the long lances of the assail- 
ants, all would have been lost had not assistance arrived, which 
checked the irruption. 

In Napoleon's last desperate struggle in France before his abdica- 
tion, in the battle with Blucher at Brienne, the scene of his youthful 
studies, a Cossack's lance all but terminated his career. " The bulk 
of the French army was bivouacking in the plain between Brienne 
and Maizieres, and the emperor, after having inspected their posi- 
tions, was riding back, accompanied by his suite, to the latter town, 
in earnest conversation with general Grourgaud, when Gen. Dejean, 
who commanded the patrol in front, suddenly turned and cried out, 
" The Cossacks!" Hardly were the words spoken when a party of 
these marauders, dashed across the road : Dejean seized the foremost, 
and strove to plunge his sabre in his throat. The Cossack, however, 
disengaged himself, parried the blow, and continuing his career, made, 
with his lance in rest, at the emperor. A cry of horror arose in the 
emperor's suite; Corbineau- threw himself across the lancer's path, 
while Grourgaud drew his pistol and shot him through, so near Napoleon 
that he fell dead at his feet. The whole of the suite now came up, 
and the Cossacks ignorant of the inestimable prize almost within their 
grasp, and seeing the first surprise had failed, dispersed and fled." 

The allied armies had entered Paris and Napoleon was overthrown. 
He took leave of his army at Fontainbleau, and during his address to 
them, he was overcome with emotion. He entered his carriage and 
started for Frefus. On his journey he had painful evidence of the 
uncertainty of popular favor. In some places he was received with 
marked respect, in others the populace were clamorous against him, 
and in Saint Camat, he narrowly escaped from their fury. A mob 
surrounded the inn into which he had retreated, furiously demanding 
his head, and it was only by getting out of a back window, and riding 



368 MARSHAL NET. 

the next post in disguise, with the white cockade on his breast, as a 
courier, that he escaped. " Such was the mortification which Na- 
poleon felt at this cruel reception from the people whom he had so 
long governed, that when the allied commissioners came up to the 
post-house they found him in a back room, with his elbows on his 
knees, and his hands on his forehead, in profound affliction." The 
other cities on his route he passed through disguised in an Austrian 
uniform. 

His retirement to Elba, his residence there, his subsequent descent 
on France, the memorable one hundred days, ending with the battle 
of Waterloo, his second abdication, his confinement, and death at St. 
Helena — are all well known. 



MARSHAL NEY. 

Of all the heroic spirits identified with the career of Napoleon, 
Ney has always taken highest rank. Nothing could equal the intre- 
pidity, and cool courage of this great warrior, and he was pronounced 
by Bonaparte to be " the bravest of the brave." When only seven- 
teen he entered the army as a private. " *In 1793, he was promoted 
for his bravery and skill ; and the next year, being then twenty-four 
years of age, he was presented with a company. General Kleber, 
having noticed his admirable qualities, placed him at the head of a 
corps, composed of five hundred partisans, who received no pay, and 
lived on plunder. It was their duty to reconnoitre the enemy's po- 
sition and cut off their convoys, which exposed them to many hair- 
breadth escapes, and adventures exceeding even those of romance. 
Young Ney, being resolved on promotion, brought to this perilous 
service all his mental and physical powers. His iron will seemed to 
compensate for the loss of sleep, and food, and rest. Daunted by no 
danger, exhausted by no toil, caught by no stratagem, he acquired at 
the head of this bold band of warriors the sobriquet of the "Indefati- 

* Headloy. 



MARSHAL NEY. 369 

gable.' Three years after, he found occasion to distinguish himself 
in the engagements of Dierdorf, Altenkirchen, and Montabour. With 
one hundred cavalry he took two thousand prisoners, and obtained 
possession of Wurtzberg. He led two columns straight into the river, 
and forcing the opposite banks, though lined with cannon, made him- 
self master of Forcheim. For these exploits he was appointed gen- 
eral of a brigade. At the battle of Neuwied, he had charge of the 
cavalry, and in a desperate charge passed entirely through the Aus- 
trian lines ; but, being surrounded by a superior force, he was com- 
pelled to retreat, and, his horse having fallen under him, he was taken 
prisoner. Having been liberated by exchange, he was raised to the 
rank of general of division. For awhile after the peace of Leoben, 
he remained in Paris, and having joined the Clichian party became 
entangled in politics. But the commencement of hostilities in 1799, 
found Ney again in the field of battle, struggling with the allied forces 
on the banks of the Rhine. Here occurred one of those adventures 
that belong rather to the period of romance, than to the practical his- 
tory of our times. The Rhine flowed between him and the city of 
Manheim, which was strongly garrisoned, and filled with stores of 
every kind. It was a matter of much discussion how this key of 
Germany should be taken. The generals of the army met in frequent 
consultation, on the best mode of attacking it. Ney, in the mean- 
time, thinking it could be better taken by surprise, resolved to visit it 
in disguise, and ascertain its weak points. So one evening, assuming 
the garb of a peasant, he entered the' city ; and, after satisfying him- 
self as to the best mode of attack, returned Selecting a hundred 
and fifty brave men, he recrossed the river at eight in the evening, 
and at eleven made a furious assault on the outposts. A portion of 
the garrison having made a sally, he repulsed them ; and following 
hard after the fugitives, entered the town with them, and after a 
short, but desperate engagement, captured it. This fixed his rising 
fame. In 1804 Napoleon made him a marshal. The year following 
this, he was created the Duke of Elchingen, in honor of the battle 
he there fought. In the campaigns of 1805-7, he reached the height 
of his fame and power, and ever after Bonaparte regarded him as 
one of the strongest pillars of his power. 

" But it is in the Russian campaign that Ney displayed his greatest 
qualities as a commander, and his most wonderful powers of en- 



370 



MARSHAL NEY. 



durance. The history of the Grand Army in its invasion of Russia 
and retreat from it, combines more of glory and of gloom than any- 
thing of its kind in the annals of man. The blazing towers of Mos- 
cow, the turning point of Napoleon's invasion and his fortune, had 
scarcely crumbled to ashes, before the fated army turned their faces 
homeward. Ney was appointed to cover the retreat, and the whole 
history of his conduct during that memorable retreat, seems to be- 
long rather to some hero of romance than an actual man. The mar- 
velous details appear incredible, and would not be believed if the evi- 
dence was not incontestible. With a mere handful of men he placed 
himself between the French and Russian armies, and, by his incredi- 
ble exertions, desperate valor, and exhaustless ingenuity, saved a 
portion of that host which would otherwise have been totally anni- 
hilated. That retreat alone would make him immortal. Without 
provisions, almost without arms, he battled the well-tried and count- 
less legions of Russia back from his beloved emperor — and over the 
wintery fields of snow, and amid the driving storm, with a heart un- 
tamed and a will unsubdued, he hovered like a protecting spirit 
around the divided and flying ranks of his countrymen. The sol- 
diers, exhausted and despairing, threw their muskets from them into 
the snow-drifts, and lay down by thousands to die. Cold, benumbed, 
and famine-struck, this ghost of an army straggled on through the 
deep snow, with nothing but the tall pines swaying and roaring 
mournfully in the blast for landmarks to the glazing eye, while an 
enraged and well-disciplined army was pressing in the rear. Clouds 
of ravens, whose dusky ibrms glanced like spirits through the snow- 
filled air, croaked over the falling columns, while troops of dogs, that 
had followed the army from Moscow, fell on the prostrate forms be- 
fore life was wholly extinct. The storm howled by as the soldiers 
sunk at night in the snow to rest, many to rise no more, while the 
morning sun, if it shone at all, looked cold and dimly through the 
fhying clouds of the northern sky. There were long intervals when 
not a drum or trumpet note broke the muffled tread of the stagger- 
ing legions. On the rear of such an army, and in sight of such hor- 
rors, did Ney combat. Nothing but a spirit unconquerable as fate 
itself could have sustained him, or kept alive the flagging con 
his troops. Stumbling every moment over the dead bodies of their 
comrades who had marched but a few hours in advance of them, 



MARSHAL NEY. 371 

thousands threw away their arms in despair, and wandered off into 
the wilderness to die with cold, or be slain by the Cossacks. Yet 
Ney kept a firm band around him, that all the power of Eussia could 
not conquer. Now ordering his march with the skill of a general, 
and now with a musket in hand fighting like a common soldier, the 
moral force of his example accomplished what authority alone never 
could have done. At length, the brave and heroic commander seem- 
ed to have reached the crisis of his fate, and there was no escape 
from the doom that hung over him. The Russians had finally placed 
themselves between the French army and that rear-guard, now 
dwindled to a few thousand. Ignorant of his danger, Ney was lead- 
ing his columns through a dense fog to the banks of the Lossmina, on 
which were strewed the dead bodies of his countrymen, when a 
battery of forty cannon suddenly poured a destructive storm of 
grape-shot into the very heart of his ranks. The next moment, the 
heights before him on either side appeared lined with dense columns 
of infantry and artillery. Ney had done all that man could do, and 
here his career seemed about to close. He was ordered to capitu- 
late. He replied, 'A marshal of France never surrenders,' and 
closing his columns, marched strait upon the batteries. Vain valor. 
His noble and devoted followers proved themselves worthy of their 
heroic leader, but after a loss of half their number they were compel- 
led to retire. Finding the army gradually extending itself on every 
side to hem him in, he returned back towards Smolensko for an 
hour, then, forming a body of four thousand men, turned north to- 
wards the Dnieper. Having reached the stream in safety, he ar- 
ranged his fragment of an army so as to march over the ice at a mo- 
ment's warning, and then waited three hours before crossing to allow 
the weak and wounded stragglers to come in. Pressed by the most 
appalling dangers he still yielded to the dictates of mercy. There on 
the banks of the frozen river, and during this time of intense anxiety, 
did this strange indomnitable man he down with his martial cloak 
around him, and sleep. Bonaparte, far in advance, struggling for- 
ward on foot with a birch stick in his hand to keep him from falling 
on the ice, surrounded by his few exhausted yet faithful followers, 
was pressed with anxiety for the fate of Ney — his now last remain- 
ing hope. But the marshal, with only three thousand men, had still 
a wilderness between him and his emperor, and that wilderness was 



372 MARSHAL NEY. 

filled with Cossacks. For sixty miles he struggled on with his weary 
columns amid six thousand of these wild warriors. At one time they 
got in advance of him, and fell unexpectedly upon his advanced posts, 
which were immediately driven in, and all was given up as lost. But 
Ney ordered the trumpets to sound the charge, and with the cheer- 
ing words, ' Comrades, now is the moment ; forward, they are ours,' 
rallied their courage to the assault, and the Cossacks fled. Thinking 
their general saw what they did not see, and that the enemy were 
cut off, the soldiers pressed forward where otherwise they would 
have yielded and fled. At length, with only fifteen hundred men 
out of the forty thousand with which he had started, he arrived 
near Orcha, and near the French army. When Bonaparte heard of 
it, he exclaimed, 'I have three hundred millions in my coffers in the 
Tuileries, I would willingly have given them to save Marshal Ney.' 
Well he might, and half his empire with it, for without him he had 
been a throneless emperor. The meeting of Bonaparte and his brave 
marshal shows the profound impression the conduct of the latter had 
made on him. As his eye fell on the worn yet still proud uncon- 
querable veteran, he exclaimed, ' What a man, what a soldier !' But 
words failed to express his admiration, and he clasped the stern war- 
rior to his bosom and embraced him with all the rapture one hero 
embraces another. 

"But Ney's exhausting efforts were not yet over. Bonaparte 
dared not relieve him from his dangerous and important post. Though 
the rear guard had melted away again and again under his com- 
mand, he still renewed its ranks, and presented the same determin- 
ed front to the enemy. At the awful passage of the Beresina, he 
stood again between the army and destruction. At length, the scat- 
tered remnants of the French Legions reached the Nieman, the boun- 
dary of the Russian territory. Ney arrived destitute of troops — the 
rear-guard had again melted away. Collecting in haste a few hun- 
dred men, whom he found in the town (Wilna,) he planted twenty- 
four cannon on the redoubts, and kept back the enemy all day, while 
the army was retiring. The next morning, he continued his de- 
fence, but the soldiers, seeing their comrades bending their footsteps 
towards France, and away from the bullets of the Russians, began to 
follow after, till he was left almost alone. Still true to his duty, he 
continued to cover the retreat of the army he had so often saved. 



MARSHAL NEY. 373 

All had not yet passed the Niemen, and by dint of persuasion, and 
threats, and promises, he collected thirty men around him, and 
with musket in hand defended -with this handful the gate of Wilna. 
At length, when the last soldier was over, he slowly retired 
through the streets with his face to the enemy, and, crossing the 
river,, 'was the last of the Grand Army who left the Russian terri- 
tory: 

" Gumbinnen was the first place in Germany, after crossing the 
river, at which rest could be obtained. General Dumas, who was 
sick, had just entered the house of a French physician in this town, 
when a man accosted him whom he took to be a perfect stranger. 
His powerful form was wrapped in a large military cloak — his beard 
was long and untrimmed — his countenance begrimed with powder, 
and his whiskers half burned off, while his emaciated face spoke of 
toils and privations of no common magnitude. But his eye still 
burned with that lustre no one ever forgot who once saw it in battle. 
' What,' said the stranger, ' General Dumas, do you not know me ?' 
' No,' replied Dumas, ' Who are you ?' 'lam the rear guard of the 
army, Marshal Ney. I have fired the last musket shot on the bridge 
of Kowno ; I have thrown into the Nieman the last of our arms ; 
and I have walked hither as you see me across the forests.' He had 
done all that man could do — fought till his army was annihilated, then 
formed another, created means where they did not exist — sustained 
the sinking courage of his followers when all before him was blank 
and hopeless — struggled at last with a few hundred, and then thirty, 
and then alone, as rear guard of the army, ard almost unattended 
crossed the forests to the remant of that army. 

" After the abdication of Napoleon he gave in his edherence to the 
Bourbons, but when Napoleon returned from Elba, he reluctantly 
yielded to the persuasions of the Emperor, and hastened to join him. 
At Waterloo, Napoleon, as he had often done before, committed him- 
self and France to Ney, and saw his empire rest on a single charge 
of the Old Guard. Nothing could be more imposing than the move- 
ment of that grand column to the assault. That guard had never yet 
recoiled before a human foe, and the allied forces beheld with awe 
its firm and terrible advance to the final charge. For a moment the 
batteriea stopped playing, and the firing ceased along the British 
lines. Without the beating of a drum or the blast of a bugle to cheer 



374 MARSHAL NEY. 

their steady courage, they moved on in dead silence over the plain. 
The next moment the artillery opened, and the head of that gallant 
column seemed to sink into the earth. Rank after rank went down, 
yet they neither stopped or faltered. Dissolving squadrons and whole 
columns disappearing one after another in the destructive fire affected 
not their steady courage. The column closed up as hefore, and each 
treading over his fallen comrade pressed firmly on. The horse which 
Ney rode fell under him, and he had scarcely mounted another before 
it also sunk under him. Again and again did that unflinching man 
feel his steed sink down, till five had been shot under him. Then, 
with his uniform riddled Avith bullets, and his face singed and black- 
ened with powder, he marched on foot with drawn sabre at the head 
of his column. In vain did the artillery hurl its storm of fire and lead 
into that living mass. Up to the very muzzles they pressed, and 
driving the artillerymen from their own pieces, pushed on through 
the English lines. But the sudden firing of that hitherto unseen rank 
into their very faces, pouring a sheet of flame into their bosoms, was 
too much for human courage. They reeled, shook, turned, and fled. 
Ney was borne back in the refluent tide, and hurried over the field. 
But for the crowd of fugitives that forced him back, he would have 
stood alone and fallen in his footsteps. As it was, disdaining to fly, 
though the whole army was flying, he formed his men into two im- 
mense squares and endeavored to stem the terrific tide, and would 
have done so, had it not been for the fifty thousand fresh Prussians 
that pressed on his exhausted ranks. For a long time they stood and 
let the artillery plough through them. But the fate of Napoleon was 
writ, and though we believe Ney did what no other man in Europe 
could have done, the decree could not be reversed. The star that 
had blazed so balefully over the world, went down iu blood, and the 
' bravest of the brave' had fought his last battle. It was worthy of 
his great name, and the charge of the Old Guard at Waterloo, with 
him at their head, will be pointed to by remotest generations with a 
shudder. 

" We now come to the expiation of his treason by a public execu- 
tion. The allies, after they assembled in Paris, demanded some vic- 
tims to appease their anger, and Ney was a prominent example, lie 
was tried, found guilty, and condemned to die. That he was guilty 
of treason to the letter of the charge, is evident, but not to that ex- 







: ' •' . 




MARSHAL LANNES. 377 

tent which demanded death. No man had done more for France 
than he, or loved her glory with a higher affection; and his igno- 
minious death is a lasting disgrace to the French nation. His last mo- 
ments did not disgrace his life. The place is still shown in the gardens 
of the Luxembourg where he was executed. As he alighted from 
the coach, he advanced towards the file of soldiers drawn up as exe- 
cutioners, with the same calm mein he was wont to exhibit on the 
field of battle. An officer stepping forward to bandage his eyes, he 
stopped him with the proud interrogation, 'Are you ignorant that for 
twenty-five years I have been accustomed to face both ball and bul- 
lets ?' He then took off his hat, and with his eagle eye, now sub- 
dued and solemn, turned towards heaven, said, with the same calm 
and decided voice that had turned so many battles, ' I declare, before 
God and man, that I never have betrayed my country ; may my 
death render her happy, Vive la France /" He then turned to the 
soldiers, and gazing upon them a moment, struck one hand upon his 
heart and said, ' My comrades, fire on me.' Ten balls entered him, 
and he fell dead. 

''Says Colonel Napier, in speaking of his death, 'thus he who had 
fought Jive hundred battles for France — not one against her — was shot 
as a traitor.' " 



MARSHAL LANNES. 

Jean Lannes in the early wars of the French Republic, exhibited 
those striking qualities that afterwards arrested the attention of Na- 
poleon, and which eventually closely endeared him to the great Cor- 
sican. He was remarkable for reckless daring and unconquerable 
resolution. We subjoin from Mr. Headley, a few extracts describing 
the more remarkable and striking incidents in his military career. 

" After the successive victories of Montenotte, Milisimo, and Degc, 
Napoleon resolved to push on to Milan. In his progress he was 
forced to cross the Adda, at Lodi. Twelve thousand Austrian in- 
fantry, and four thousand cavalry, with a battery of thirty cannon, 



3~8 MARSHAL LANNES. 

stood at the farther extremity of the bridge he was to pass, to dispute 
its passage. On the 1st of May, Napoleon arrived at Lodi with his 
army. The Austrian cannon and musketry began immediately to 
play on the bridge, so that it seemed impossible to reconnoitre the 
ground. But Napoleon, sheltering his men behind the houses of the 
town, sallied out into the midst of the deadly storm, and immediately 
arranged his plan. Forming a column of seven thousand picked men. 
he placed himself at their head and rushed upon the bridge; but the 
cannon balls and grape-shot, and the bullets of the infantry, swept 
every inch of the narrow defile, and rattled like an incessant shower 
of hailstones against its stony sides. So incessant and furious was the 
discharge, that a cloud of smoke lay like a dense fog around the 
bridge ; yet into its very bosom moved the intrepid column. The 
awful volley that smote their breasts made these bold men stop and 
stagger like a strong ship smitten by the wave. For a moment the 
column wavered and balanced on the pass, for a thousand had already 
fallen, and it was marching straight into a volcano of fire ; but the 
next moment, seeiug themselves supported by the tirailleurs that were 
fording the stream beneath the arches, they shouted, ' Vive la Re- 
publique /" and, receiving the awful storm of cannon-balls and grape- 
shot on their unshrinking bosoms, rushed forward and bayoneted the 
artillery-men at their guns. Lannes was the first man across and Bo- 
naparte the second. Spurring his excited steed on the Austrian 
ranks, he snatched a banner from the enemy, and just as he was 
about to seize another, his brave horse sunk under him. In a mo- 
ment, the swords of half a dozen cuirassiers glittered above him, and 
his destruction seemed inevitable. But extricating himself with in- 
credible exertion from his dying steed, he arose amid the sabre-strokes 
that fell like lightning around him, and leaping on the horse of an 
Austrian officer behind him, slew him with a single stroke, and, hurl- 
ing him from his saddle, seated himself in his place, and then, wheel- 
ing on the enemy, charged the cuirassiers like a thunderbolt, aud 
fought his way through them single-minded, back to his followers. 
It is said that Napoleon never forgot the bearing of Lannes ou that 
occasion. The fury of a demon seemed to possess him, and the 
strength of ten men appeared to be concentrated in his single arm. 
No wonder Bonaparte promoted him on the spot. His own daring 



MARSHAL LANNES. 379 

was reckless enough, but Lannes' was still more so, and it seems 
almost a miracle that he escaped death." 

One of the most remarkable battles in which he was engaged, waa 
that with the Austrians at Montebello. Leading the vanguard over 
the St. Bernard he came upon the Po, and upon eighteen thousand' 
Austrians, so admirably posted that to attack them would be despe- 
rate, and to retreat would be disastrous. He therefore resolved to 
withstand the whole shock of the army with his little band. It was 
a desperate encounter. 

" He was everywhere present, now heading a column in a charge 
— now rallying a shattered division — and now fighting desperately, 
hand to hand with the enemy. Under one of the most destructive 
fires to which a regiment was perhaps ever exposed, he led his men 
up the heights of Eavenna. Standing himself where the shot 
ploughed up the ground in furrows about him, he not only cooly sur- 
veyed the danger, but by his commands and presence, held his men 
for a long time in the very face of death. They were on the point 
pf fleeing when Victor's troops came up, and restored the battle. It 
is said that Lannes' appearance in this battle was absolutely terrific. 
Besmeared with powder, and blood, and smoke, he rode from division 
to division, inspiring courage and daring in the exhausted ranks, ral- 
lying again and again, the wasted columns to the desperate charge, 
and holding them by his personal daring and reckless exposure of his 
life, hour after hour, to the murderous fire. But at last the Austrians 
were compelled to retreat. Bonaparte arrived just in time to see the 
battle won. 

" In 1808, Lannes was sent to join the army in Spain. In crossing 
the mountains near Mondragon, he came very near losing his life. 
His horse stumbled, and in the effort to rally fell back on him, crush- 
ing his body dreadfully by his weight. He who had stormed over so 
many battle-fields, and been hurled again and again from his seat 
amid trampling squadrons, as his horse sunk under him, and yet es- 
caped death, was here on a quiet march well-nigh deprived of his 
life. 

" The surgeon, who had seen a similar operation performed by the 
Indians in Newfoundland, ordered a sheep to be skinned immediately, 
and the warm pelt sewed around the wounded marshal's body. His 
extremities in the meantime were wrapped in hot flannels, and warm 



380 MARSHAL LANNES. 

drinks were given him. In ten minutes he was asleep, and shortly 
after broke into a profuse perspiration, when the dangerous symp- 
toms passed away. Five days after, he led his columns into battle 
at Tuedla, and completely routed an army of forty thousand men. 

" In the storming of Ratisbon, Lannes exhibited one of those im- 
pulsive deeds which characterized him. Seeing a house leaning 
against the ramparts, he immediately ordered the artillery against it, 
which soon broke down the walls, and left them as a sort of stepping- 
stones to the tops of the walls of the city. But such a destructive 
fire was kept up by the Austrians on the space between the French 
and it, that they could not be induced to cross it. At length, Lannes 
seized a scaling ladder, and rushing into and through the tempest of 
balls that swept every foot of the ground, planted it against the 
ruined house, and summoned his men to follow. Rushing through 
the fire, they rallied around him, scaled the walls, and poured into the 
city, and opened the gates to the army." 

But we now come to the close of Lannes' career. In the terrible 
battle of Aspern, Lannes was shot down by a cannon ball. As Na- 
poleon was engaged in directing the position of some batteries, a lit- 
ter approached, and on it he saw his heroic marshal extended in the 
agonies of death. Lannes seized his hand, and in a tremulous voice, 
exclaimed, "Adieu, sire! Live for the world; but bestow a few 
thoughts on one of your best friends, who in a few hours will be no 
more." All unconscious of the battle, and the mighty issue at stake, 
Napoleon flung himself on the ground, and by the rude couch of the 
dying hero, the Emperor bitterly wept : " Lannes, do you not know 
me ? it is the Emperor : it is Bonaparte, your friend : you will yet 
be preserved to us." " I would wish to live," replied Lannes, " to 
serve you and my country ; but in an hour I will be ho more." Na- 
poleon was deeply overcome, and with tearful eyes he saw his frienek 
borne from the field. Lannes lived for a few days in great torture 
His death was mourned by every Frenchman. 



MARSHAL MURAT. 381 



MARSHAL MURAT. 

Joachim Murat, one of those extraordinary characters that the 
genius of Napoleon, gathered about him, presents a history of a va- 
ried and romantic nature. He was born of obscure parents, and des- 
tined for the priesthood, but nothing could make a scholar of him, 
and his instructors despairing of their charge, declared him only fit 
for a soldier. Many adventures are told of him while at college. At 
length, falling in love with a young girl, he fought for her, and carry- 
ing off his prize, lived with her till his money was gone, and this, 
putting an end to his clerical prospects, he abandoned his professional 
garb, and enlisted in the army. Here he rapidly rose, and when 
Napoleon was appointed to the command of the Italian army, he 
made Murat a member of his personal staff. " "With the words, 
' Honor and the Ladies,' engraved on the blade of his sword — words 
characteristic of chivalric spirit of the man — he passed through the 
Italian campaigns, second only to Bonaparte in the valorous deeds 
that were wrought. At Aboukir, in the Egyptian campaign, he was 
appointed by Napoleon to force the centre of the Turkish lines, and 
he showed what wild work he could make with his cavalry. He 
rode straight through the Turkish ranks, and drove column after co- 
lumn into the sea ; and in one of his fierce charges dashed into the 
camp of Mustapha Pacha, and reining up his magnificent steed be- 
side him, made him prisoner with his own hands. His brilliant 
achievements in this battle made him forever the friend of Napo- 
leon." 

He was by the side of Napoleon when he was crowned Emperor, 
and was shortly after married to Caroline Bonaparte, the Emperor's 
sister. " Bonaparte never ceased lavishing honors on his favorite 
brother-in-law. He went up from General cf B-igade to General of 
Division, then to Commander of the National Guard, Marshal, Grand 
Admiral, Prince of the Empire, Grand Eagle of the Legion of Honor, 
Grand Duke of Berg and Cleves, and was finally made King of Na- 
ples. He had undergone some changes since he left off studying 
theology ! 



332 MARSHAL MURAT. 

"The three distinguishing characteristics of Murat, were high chiv- 
alric courage, great skill as a general, and almost unparalleled cool- 
ness in the hour of extremest peril.. Added to all this, Nature had 
lavished her gifts on the mere physical man. His form was tall and 
finely proportioned — his tread like that of a king — his face striking 
and noble, while his piercing glance few men could bear. This was 
Murat on foot, but place him on horseback, and he was still more im- 
posing. He never mounted a steed that was not worthy of the bold- 
est knight of ancient days, and his incomparable seat made both horse 
and rider an object of universal admiration. The English invariably 
condemn the theatrical costume he always wore, as an evidence of 
folly, but we think it is all in keeping with his character. He was 
not a man of deep thought and compact mind, but he was an oriental 
in his tastes, and loved everything gorgeous and imposing. He 
usually wore a rich Polish dress, with the collar ornamented with 
gold brocade, ample pantaloons, scarlet or purple, and embroidered 
with gold ; boots of yellow leather, while a straight diamond-hiited 
sword, like that worn by the ancient Eomans, hanging from a girdle 
of gold brocade, completed his dashing exterior. He wore heavy 
black whiskers, and long black locks, which streamed over his shoul- 
ders and contrasted singularly with his fiery blue eye. On his head 
he wore a three-cornered chapeau, from which rose a magnificent 
white plume that bent under the profusion of ostrich feathers, while 
beside it, and in the same gold band, towered away a splendid heron 
plume. Over all this brilliant costume he wore, in cold weathei, a 
pelisse of green velvet, lined and fringed with the costliest sables. 
Neither did he forget his horse in this gorgeous apparelling, but had 
him adorned with the rich Turkish stirrup and bridle, and almost 
covered with azure-colored trappings. Had all this finery been piled 
on a diminutive man, or an indifferent rider like Bonaparte, it woul-l 
have appeared ridiculous ; but on the splendid charger and still more 
majestic figure and bearing of Murat, it seemed all in place and keep- 
ing. This dazzling exterior always made him a mark for the enemy's 
bullets in battle, and it is a wonder that so conspicuous an object was 
never shot down. Perhaps there never was a greater contrast be- 
tween two men than between Murat and Napoleon, when they rode 
together along the lines previous to battle. The square figure, plain 
three-cornered hat, leather breeches, brown surtout, and careless scat 



MARSHAL MURAT. 383 

of Napoleon, were the direct counterpart of the magnificent display 
and imposing attitude of his chivalric brother-in-law. To see Murat 
decked out in this extravagant costume at a review, might create a 
smile ; but whoever once saw that gayly-caparisoned steed with its 
commanding rider in the front rank of battle, plunging like a thunder- 
bolt through the broken ranks, or watched the progress of that tow- 
ering white plume, as floating high over the tens of thousands that 
struggled behind it — a constant mark to the cannon-balls that whis- 
tled like hailstones around it — never felt like smiling again at Murat. 
Especially would he forget those gilded trappings when he saw him 
return from a charge, with his diamond-hiked sword dripping Avith 
blood, his gay uniform riddled with balls and singed and blackened 
with powder, while his strong war-horse was streaked with foam and 
blood, and reeking with sweat. That white plume was the banner 
to the host he led, and while it continued fluttering over the field of 
the slain, hope was never relinquished. Many a time has- Napoleon 
seen it glancing like a beam of light to the charge, and watched its 
progress like the star of his destiny, as it struggled for awhile in the 
hottest of the fight, and then smiled in joy as he beheld it burst 
through the thick ranks of infantry, scattering them from his path 
like chaff before the wind. 

" None could appreciate the chivalrous bearing of Murat more than 
the wild Cossacks. In the memorable Eussian campaign, he was 
called from his throne at Naples to take command of the cavalry, and 
performed prodigies of valor in that disastrous war. When the 
steeples and towers of Moscow at length rose on the sight, Murat, 
looking at his soiled and battle-worn garments, declared them unbe- 
coming so great an occasion as the triumphal entrance into the Eus- 
sian capital, and retired and dressed himself in his most magnificent 
costume, and thus appareled rode at the head of his squadrons into 
the deserted city. The Cossacks had never seen a man that would 
compare with Murat in the splendor of his garb, the beauty of his 
horsemanship, and, more than all, in his incredible daring in battle. 
Those wild children of the desert would often stop, amazed, and gaze 
in silent admiration, as they saw him clash, single-handed, into the 
thickest of their ranks, and scatter a score of renowned warriors from 
his path, a3 if he were a bolt from heaven. His effect upon these 
children of nature, and the prodigies he wrought among them, seem 



384 MARSHAL MURAT. 

to belong to the age of romance rather than to our practical times. 
They never saw him on his magnificent steed, sweeping to the charge, 
his tall white plume streaming behind him, without sending up a 
shout of admiration before they closed in conflict. 

" In approaching Moscow, Murat, with a few troops, had left Gjatz 
somewhat in advance of the grand army, and finding himself con- 
stantly annoyed by the hordes of Cossacks that hovered around him, 
now wheeling away in the distance, and now dashing up to his co- 
lumns, compelling them to deploy, lost all patience, and obeying one 
of those chivalric impulses that so often hurled him into the most 
desperate traits, put spurs to his horse, and galloping all alone, up to 
the astonished squadrons, halted right in front of them, and cried out 
in a tone of command, ' Clear the way, reptiles !' Awed by his man- 
ner and voice, they immediately dispersed. During the armistice, 
while the Russians were evacuating Moscow, these sons of the wil- 
derness flocked by thousands around him. As they saw him rein- 
ing his high-spirited steed towards them, they sent up a shout of ap- 
plause, and rushed forward to gaze on one they had seen carrying 
such terror through their ranks. They called him their ' hetman,' — 
the highest honor they could confer on him — and kept up an inces- 
sant jargon as they examined him and his richly caparisoned horse. 
They would now point to his steed — now to his costume, and then 
to his white plume, while they fairly recoiled before his piercing 
glance. 

" Murat loved Bonaparte with supreme devotion, and bore with 
his impatience and irrascibility, and even dissipated them by his good 
humor. Once, however, Bonaparte irritated him beyond endurance. 
Murat foresaw the result of a march to Moscow, and expostulated 
with his brother-in-law on the perilous undertaking. The dispute 
ran high, and Murat pointed to the lateness of the season, and the 
inevitable ruin in which the winter, so close at hand, would involve 
the army. Bonaparte, more passionate than usual, because he felt 
that Murat had the right of it, as he had a few days before, when he 
besought him not to attack Smolensko because the Russians would 
evacuate it of their own accord, made some reply which was heard 
only by the latter, but which stung him so to the quick that he sim- 
ply replied, 'A march to Moscow will be the destruction of the 
army,' and spurred his horse straight into the fire of a Russian bat- 



MARSHAL MURAT. 385 

tery. Bonaparte had touched him in some sore spot, and he deter 
mined to wipe out the disgrace by his death. He ordered all his 
guard to leave him, and sat there on his magnificent steed with his 
piercing eye turned full on the battery, calmly waiting the ball that 
should shatter him. A more striking subject for a picture was scarce 
ever furnished than he exhibited in that attidude. There stood his 
high mettled and richly caparisoned charger, with arching neck and 
dilated eye, giving ever and anon a slight shiver at each explosion of 
the artillery that ploughed up the turf at his feet, while Murat, in his 
splendid attire, sat calmly on his back, with his ample breast turned 
full on the fire, and his proud lip curled in defiance, and his tall white 
plume waiving to and fro in the air, as the bullets whistled by it — 
the impersonation of calm courage and heroic daring. At length, 
casting his eye round, he saw G-eneral Belliard still by his side. He 
asked him why he did not withdraw. 'Every man,' he replied, 
'is master of his own life, and as your majesty seems determined to 
dispose of your own, I must be allowed to fall beside you.' This fi- 
delity and love struck the generous heart of Murat, and he turned his 
horse and galloped out of the fire. The affection of a single man 
could conquer him, at any time, whom the enemy seemed unable to 
overcome. His own life was nothing, but the fife of a friend was sur- 
passingly dear to him. 

" When Napoleon abdicated, and was sent to Elba, and before the 
different powers of Europe had decided whether they should allow 
Murat to retain his throne, Europe was thrown into consternation by 
the announcement that Bonaparte was again on the shores of France 
Murat immediately declared in favor of his brother-in-law, and at- 
tempted to rouse Italy. But his army deserted him, and, hastening 
back to Naples, he threw himself into the arms of his wife, exclaim- 
ing, ' All is lost, Caroline, but my life, and that I have not been able 
to cast away.' Finding himself betrayed on every side, he fled in 
disguise to Ischia. Sailing from thence to France, he landed at Can- 
nes, and dispatched a courier to Fouche, requesting him to inform 
Napoleon of his arrival. Bonaparte, irritated that he precipitated 
things so in Italy, contrary to his express directions, sent back the 
simple reply, 'to remain where he was until the emperor's pleasure 
with regard to him was known.' This cold answer threw Murat into 
a tempest of passion. He railed against his brother-in-law, loading 



386 MARSHAL MURAT. 

him with accusations, for whom, he said, he had lost his throne and 
kingdom. Wishing, however, to be nearer Paris, he started for 
Lyons, and while changing horses at Aubagne, near Marseilles, he 
was told of the disastrous battle of Waterloo. 

"Hastening back to Toulon, he lay concealed in a house near the 
city, to await the result of this last overthrow of Napoleon. 'When 
he was informed of his abdication, he scarcely knew what to do. At 
first, he wished to get to Paris, to treat personally with the allied 
sovereigns for his safety. Being unable to do this, he thought of fly- 
ing to England, but hesitating to do this also, without a promise of 
protection from that government, he finally, through Fouche, ob- 
tained permission! of the emperor of Austria to settle in his domin- 
ions. But while he was preparing to set out, he was told that a 
band of men were on their way to seize him, in order to get the forty 
thousand francs which the Bourbons had offered for his head ; and 
he fled with a single servant to a desolate place on the sea-shore near 
Toulon. Thither his friends from the city secretly visited him, and 
informed him what were the designs respecting him. Resolving at 
last to proceed to Paris by sea, he engaged the captain of a vessel 
bound to Havre, to send a boat at night to take him off. But, by 
some strange fatality, the seamen could not find Murat, nor he the 
seamen, though searching for each other half the night ; and the sea 
beginning to rise, the boat was compelled to return to the ship with- 
out him. As the morning broke over the coast, the dejected wan- 
derer saw the vessel, with all her sails set, standing boldly out to sea. 
He gazed for a while on the lessening masts, and then fled to the 
woods, where he wandered about for two days, without rest or food. 
At length, drenched with rain, exhausted and weary, he stumbled on 
a miserable cabin, where he found an old woman, who kindly gave 
him food and shelter. He gave himself out as belonging to the gar- 
rison at Toulon, and he looked worn and haggard enough to be the 
commonest soldier. The white plume was gone that had floated over 
so many battle-fields, and the dazzling costume, that had glanced like 
a meteor through the cloud of war, was exchanged for the soiled gar- 
ments of an outcast. Not even his good steed was left, that had 
borne him through so many dangers; and as that tall and majestic 
form stooped to enter the low door of the cabin, he fvll how change- 
ful was human fortune. The fields of his fame were far away, his 



MARSHAL MURAT. 337 

throne was gone, the wife of his bosom ignorant of the fate cf her 
lord. While he sat at his humble fare, the owner of the cabin, a 
soldier belonging to the garrison of Toulon, entered, and bade him 
welcome. But there was something about the wanderer's face that 
struck him, and at length remembering to have seen those features 
on some French coin, he fell on his knees before him, and called him 
King Murat. His wife followed his example. Murat, astonished at 
the discovery, and then overwhelmed at the evidence of affection 
these poor, unknown people offered him, raised them to his bosom 
and gave them his blessing. Forty thousand francs were no tempta- 
tion to this honest soldier and his wife. Here he lay concealed, till 
one night the old woman saw lights approaching the cabin, and im- 
mediately suspecting the cause, aroused Murat, and hastening him 
into the garden, thrust him into a hole, and piled him over with 
vine branches. She then returned to the house, and arranged the 
couch from which Murat had escaped, and began herself to undress 
for bed, as if nothing had occurred to disturb her ordinary household 
arrangements. In a few moments sixty gensd'armes entered, and 
ransacked the house and garden, passing again and again by the spot 
where Murat was concealed. Foiled in their search, they at length 
went away. But such a spirit as Murat's could not endure'this mode 
of existence, and he determined to put to sea. Having, through his 
friends at Toulon, obtained a skiff, he on the night of August 22, 
with only three attendants, boldly pushed his frail boat from the 
beach, and launched out into the broad Mediterranean, and steered 
for Corsica. When about thirty miles from the shore, they saw and 
hailed a vessel, but she passed without noticing them. The wind 
now began to rise, and amid the deepening gloom was heard the 
moaning of the sea, as it gathers itself for the tempest. The foam- 
crested waves leaped by, deluging the frail skiff, that struggled almost 
hopelessly with the perils that environed it. The haughty chieftain 
saw dangers gathering around him that no charge of cavalry could 
scatter, and he sat and looked out on the rising deep with the same 
composure he so often had sat on his gallant steed, when the artillery 
was mowing down everything at his side. At length the post-office 
paoket-vessel for Corsica was seen advancing toward them. Scarcely 
had Murat and his three faithful followers stepped aboard of it, before 
the frail skiff sunk to the bottom. It would have been better for him 
17 



388 MARSHAL MURAT. 

had it sunk sooner. He landed at Corsica in the disguise of a soldier. 
The mayor of the Commune of Bastia, the port where the vessel an- 
chored, seeing a man at his door, with a black silk bonnet over hi3 
brows, his beard neglected, and coarsely clad, was about to question 
him, when the man looked up, and 'judge of my astonishment,' says 
he, ' when I discovered that this was Joachim, the splendid King of 
Naples! I uttered a cry and fell on my knees.' Yes, this was Murat 
— the plume exchanged for the old silk bonnet, and the gold brocade 
for coarse gaiters of a common soldier. 

'• The Corsicans received him with enthusiasm, and as he entered 
Ajaccio, the troops on the ramparts and the populace received him 
with deafening cheers. But this last shadow of his old glory con- 
summated his ruin. It brought back to his memory the shouts that 
were wont to rend Naples when he returned from the army to his 
kingdom, loaded with honors and heralded by great deeds. In the 
enthusiasm of the moment, he resolved to return to Naples, and make 
another stand for his throne. At this critical period, the passports of 
the Emperor of Austria arrived. Murat was promised a safe passage 
into Austria, and an unmolested residence in any city of Bohemia 
with the title of Count, if he, in return, would renounce the throne 
of Naples, and live in obedience to the laws. Disdaining the condi- 
tions he would a few weeks Defore have gladly accepted, he madly 
resolved to return to Naples. With two hundred and fifty recruits 
and a few small vessels, he sailed for his dominions. The little fleet, 
beat back by adverse winds, that seemed rebuking the rash attempt 
did not arrive in sight of Calabria till the 6th of October, or eight 
days after his embarkation. On that very night a storm scattered 
the vessels, and when the morning broke, Murat's bark was the only 
one seen standing in for land. Two others at length joined him, but 
that night one of the captains deserted him, and returned with fifty 
of his best soldiers to Corsica. His remaining followers, seeing that 
this desertion rendered their cause hopeless, besought him to abandon 
his project and sail for Trieste and accept the terms of Austria. He 
consented, and throwing the proclamations he had designed for the 
Neapolitans into the sea, ordered the captain to steer for the Adriatic. 
He refused on the ground that he was not sufficiently provisioned for 
so long a voyage. He promised, however, to obtain stores at Pizzo, 
but refused to go on shore without the Austrian passports, which 



MARSHAL MURAT. 389 

Murat still had in his possession, to use in case of need. This irrita- 
ted Marat to such a degree that he resolved to go on shore himself, 
and ordering his officers to dress in full uniform, they approached 
Pizzo. His officers wished to land first, to feel the pulse of the peo- 
ple, but Murat, with his accustomed chivalric feeling, stopped them, 
and with the exclamation, " I must be the first on shore !" sprang to 
land, followed by twenty-eight soldiers and three domestics. Some 
few ^mariners cried out, " Long live King Joachim !" and Murat ad- 
vanced to the principle square of the town, where the soldiers were 
exercising, while his followers unfurled his standard, and shouted, 
" Joachim forever I" but the soldiers made no response. Had Murat 
been less infatuated, this would have sufficed to convince him of the 
hopelessness of his cause. He pressed on, however to Monte Leone, 
the capital of the province, but had not gone far before he found him- 
self pursued by a large company of gens d'armes. Hoping to subdue 
them by his presence, ho turned towards them and addressed them. 
The only answer he received was a volley of musketry. Forbidding 
his followers to return the fire, with the declaration that his landing 
should not cost the blood of one of his people, he turned to flee to 
the shore. Leaping from reck to rock and crag to crag, while the 
buUets whistled about him, he at length reached the beach, when lo ! 
the vessel that landed him had disappeared. The infamous captain 
had purposely left him to perish. A fishing-boat lay on the sand, and 
Murat sprang against it to shove it off, but it was fast. His few fol- 
lowers now came up, but before the boat could be launched they 
were surrounded by the blood thirsty populace. Seeing it was all 
over, Murat advanced towards them, and holding out his sword, said, 
' People of Pizzo ! take this sword, which has been so often drawn 
at the head of armies, but spare the lives of the brave men with me.' 
But they heeded him not, and kept up a rapid discharge of musketry; 
and though every bullet was aimed at Murat, not one touched him, 
whilst every man by his side was shot down. Being at length seized, 
he was hurried away to prison. Soon after, an order came from Na- 
ples to have him tried on the spot. One adjutant general, one colo- 
nel, two lieutenants colonels, and the same number of captains and 
lieutenants, constituted the commission to try a king. Murat refused 
to appear before such a tribunal, and disdained to make any defence. 



390 STEPHEN DECATUR. 

" During the trial, he conversed in prison with his friends in a 
manner worthy of his great reputation. He exhibited a loftiness of 
thought and character that surprised even his friends that had known 
him longest. At length after a pause, he said: 'Both in the court 
and camp, the national welfare ha3 been my sole object. I have used 
the public revenues for the public service alone. I did nothing for 
myself, and now. at my death, I have no wealth but my actions. They 
are all my glory and my consolation.' After talking in this strain 
for some time, the door opened, and one of the commissioners entered 
and read the sentence. Murat showed no agitation, but immedi- 
ately sat down and calmly wrote to his wife. 

" Having then inclosed some locks of hair to his wife and given 
his watch to his faithful valet, Amand, he walked out to the place of 
execution. His tall form was drawn up to its loftiest height, and 
that piercing blue eye, that had flashed so brightly over more than a 
hundred battle-fields, was now calmly turned on the soldiers who 
were to fire on him. Not a breath of agitation disturbed the perfect 
composure of his face, and, when all was ready, he kissed a cornelian 
he held in his hand, on which was cut the head of his wife, and then 
fixing his eyes steadily upon it, said, " Save my face, aim at my 
heart 1" A volley of musketry answered, and Murat was no more."* 



STEPHEN DECATUR. 

The name of Decatur will always be honored in our National his- 
tory, and his exploits be the pride of Americans. He was born in 
(.779, and was the son of Captain Decatur, an officer distinguished in 
the naval service. 

It was not till the breaking out of the war between the United 
States and France, that Decatur joined the navy, but he had no op- 
portunity to signalize himself, until the war with Tripoli, when he 
headed an enterprise that brought him at once into honorable notice. 



Headiey's Sketch of Murat. 



STEPHEN DECATUR. 39\ 

By a most lamented misfortune, the frigate Philadelphia was lost and 
fell into the hands of the Tripolitans. Commodore Preble was much 
chagrined at this loss to his own squadron, and corresponding addi- 
tion to the force of the enemy, and Decatur volunteered to head an 
expedition into the harbor and destroy the vessel. To this the Com- 
modore yielded, and the Intrepid and the Siren, were put in prepa- 
ration, and eighty men selected for the purpose. 

" In order to form a just estimate of the hazard of Decatur's pro- 
posed attack it should be perceived that the Philadelphia had had 
forty guns mounted. They were double-shotted and kept ready for 
firing. A full complement of men to serve her batteries, was kept 
constantly on board of her. She was moored within half gun-shot 
of the Bashaw's Castle, and the mole head and crown batteries, and 
within effective range of ten other batteries, the whole mounting to- 
gether one hundred and fifteen guns of heavy calibre. Three cruisers, 
mounting together 26 guns, 2 galleys, and 19 gun-boats, lay between 
her and the shore. All these vessels were in like manner fully 
manned, and kept ready for an attack. Such were the formidable 
defences that protected the Philadelphia, when Decatur with his little 
ketch of sixty tons, mounting four small guns, and having a crew of 
75 souls, undertook her capture and destruction. The Siren unfortu- 
nately had become separated in a storm, and the favorable opportu- 
nity occurring, Decatur ventured in the Intrepid alone, on his perilous 
enterprise." 

" As the twilight declined, and the shades of evening gathered 
round, the Intrepid, slowly winding amid the rocks and shoals, ap- 
proached her intended object. The deep blue sky, purified by the 
late storm, was reflected from the tranquil water, as from a mirror ; 
while the young moon, like a crescent gem, hung fair and beautiful 
over the peaceful scene. Gradually, as evening deepened, the wind 
died away, until scarcely a breath swept across the waters, and the 
Intrepid lay immoveable as though founded on a rock. Then a rip- 
ple would dim the bright surface, a light breeze sweep on the vessel, 
and silently it would continue its swan-like course. How great the 
contrast of sleeping nature, with the feelings of that crew ! On the 
deck stood their leader, every muscle rigid with expectation, and his 
restless eye piercing through the surrounding night. At his feet lay 



392 STEPHEN DECATUR. 

his men in concealment, panting with expectation of the approaching 
struggle. Not a sound broke the oppressive silence — it was a pause 
stern and terrible. 

" Suddenly a voice came ringing over the sea. They were hailed 
by the Moorish crew. A conversation took place, which was main- 
tained under an assumed character on the part of the Americans, 
until the wind suddenly shifted and brought their vessel within com- 
plete range of the frigate's guns. Their situation was now perilous — 
a single broadside would have sent the Intrepid to the bottom. For- 
tunately no suspicion had as yet been excited, and the Turks even 
sent a boat to the assistance of the supposed unfortunate stranger. 
In a few moments the Intrepid was alongside of her prey. Instantly 
Decatur sprang to the side of the vessel. ' Board !' he shouted to his 
crew, and the astonished Turks beheld their deck swarming with 
armed troops. Decatur's foot slipped in springing, so that Mr. 
Charles Morris had the honor of being first on the quarter-deck. In 
a moment his commander and a Mr. Laws were at his side, while 
heads and bodies appeared coming over the rail, and through the 
ports in all directions. 

"Never was surprise more complete. The enemy hurried in dis- 
ordered crowds from place to place, some crying for quarter, others 
leaping overboard. In ten minutes the enemy were swept away, 
and the gallant Decatur had undisputed possession of his prize. 

" And now a shade of sorrow dimmed the victor's joys. That 
proud vessel, whose deck he had often paced, in company with his 
nation's defenders, and for which he had faced such danger, must be- 
fore morning be given to the flames. It would have been happiness 
to bring her from the sands, and once more restore her to her sister 
fleet ; but this was impossible. 

" The combustibles were now ordered from the Intrepid, and in a 
few minutes the flames were sweeping and hissing along her sides. 
The greedy element licked up the spars and rigging, like chaff, and 
bursting sheets of fire drove the victors to their ketch. The flames 
burst from the port-holes, glanced like lightning along the sides, and 
flashed in the faces of the adventurers. The ketch became jammed 
against the frigate, and all her ammunition was in danger of igniting. 
The crew, however, extricated themselves by their swords, and soon 



STEPHEN DECATUR. 393 

escaped from their dangerous position. Then they paused, turned 
one exulting gaze toward the burning vessel, and poured their feel- 
ings in one "wild shout of victory. That sound had not yet subsided 
when the land batteries, the corsairs and galleys, burst forth in one 
simultaneous roar. Showers of balls and shot came whistling around 
the men. plunging and splashing among the waters, and throwing 
the spray in all directions. But, elated by success, the crew has- 
tened not, heeded not. That spectacle was terrible to sublimity. The 
Philadelphia was in one wide blaze. Sheets of flame flashed along her 
rolling hull, danced among her rigging, and, collecting along the masts, 
fell down with sullen report toward the water. The waves seemed 
like melted brass. All Triopli was in uproar. Thousands of people 
were standing in fearful anxiety, gazing upon the conflagration ; 
volumes of smoke were unfolding heavily along the heavens ; batteries 
were roaring on all sides; ships passing to and fro ; within a few miles 
all nature appeared convulsed. Yet the little craft bore on, till the 
balls ceased to whistle near them, and they were free from danger." 

The admiration of all classes was excited to the highest degree by 
this enterprise, and when it became known, not only our own coun- 
try, but all Europe resounded with acclamations of surprise and ap- 
plause. Nelson pronounced it "the most bold and daring act of the 
age." What greater honor could await any act of naval" heroism 
than such praise from Nelson ? Decatur was immediately promoted to 
the branch of Post-Captain. The next exploit of Decatur fully 
equalled the one we have just described. In the bombardment of 
Tripoli, six gun boats were despatched under Decatur and Somers' to 
attack the enemy's gun-boats, while two bomb-boats drew near the 
shore for bombarding the town, while the attack was made. The 
boats were divided into two divisions of three each — the first under 
the command of Somers, the second under Decatur. Every prepara- 
tion being made, the squadron wore in succession, and stood towards 
the batteries. We quote from his life by Mackensie. 

" In a short time the bombs commenced the action by throwing 
shells into the town. The enemy's shipping and batteries immedi- 
ately opened a tremenduous fire, which was received and returned 
by our squadron, as it gradually approached to cover the gun-boats 
Meantime the enemy's gun-boats, trusting to the more than three- 



394 STEPHEN DECATUR. 

fold superiority of numbers, a3 well as superior sail, had previously 
abandoned their sheltered position behind the rocks, and came out in 
two divisions to attack and overpower us. 

"The division of Decatur, being on the left, or eastward, wa3 
more to windward than that of Somers', who, as the senior officer, 
had the right. Decatur was able to bear down with sails and oars to 
attack the eastern division of the enemy, consisting of nine gun-boats. 
He commanded, Lieutenant Bainbridge and Trippe, who commanded 
the other two boats of the division, to unship their bowsprit, as it 
was his 'intention to board. Somers' being further to leeward, and 
having a duller boat, was unable by dint of rowing, to reach the ene- 
my, for which Decatur was steering ; he, therefore, bore gallantly 
away to attack the leward division, consisting of five boats ; but 
Lieut. James Decatur, in the second boat of Somers' line, having a 
faster boat, so far departed from the established order, as to bring his 
boat into his brother's line, which seemed likely to be soonest en- 
gaged with an overpowering force of the enemy. 

" The division of Decatur advanced steadily towards the enemy, 
pouring in upon him a shower of grape and musket balls. The boat 
of Bainbridge, having one of her yards shot away at this conjuncture, 
dropped astern of her consorts; Decatur was followed by his brother 
and by Trippe, and they each ran on board of one of the enemy's 
boats; and as the discharge of the great guns and musketry ceased, 
it was succeeded by a series of hand to hand engagements, in which 
the pistol, cutlasss, pike and battle-axe, with the physical strength 
and courage that gave impulse to them, became arbiters of the strug- 
gle. Decatur was followed on board of his antagonist by twenty- 
three of his countrymen. 

"As the crews of the enemy's gun-boals varied from thirty-six to 
fifty, he had to encounter an overpowering superiority of numbers 
in the very sort of warfare, at which the Turks have the reputation 
of being most formidable. But nothing could resist the disciplined 
courage and impetuosity of Decatur and his followers, A desperate 
struggle of ten m*inute's duration sufficed to clear the enemy's deck 
At the end of that time, part of the Tripolitans lay dead, or despe- 
rately wounded, on the deck ; a part had precipitated themselves 
into the sea ; eight sought safety in the hold of the vessel. The Tri- 



STEPHEN DECATUR. 395 

politan colore were hauled down, and Decatur, taking his prize in 
tow, was proceeding out of the harbor, when the boat, which had 
been commanded by his brother, came under his stern, and informed 
him that they had engaged and captured one of the largest of the 
enemy's boats, but that after she had struck, Lieut. James Decatur, 
in the act of stepping on board of her to take possession had been 
shot through the head by her treacherous commander. 

" Decatur's noble indignation at such base treachery needed not 
the stimulant of fraternal agony, at the sight of an expiring brother, 
to impel him to the immediate pursuit of the assassin. Lieut. Thorn, 
with the greater part of his crew, had been left in possession of the 
prize. Still heedless of every prudential suggestion, he laid the 
head of his boat toward that of his brother's murderer, and fol- 
lowed him within the enemy's line, where he had taken refuge, ran 
on board, and leaped upon his deck, followed Jby the gallant young 
Macdonough, and the nine remaining Americans of his crew. This 
was a desperate undertaking, suggested by a courage which stopped 
to consider no inequality. For twenty minutes the result of the con- 
test seemed uncertain. Three of Decatur's followers were already 
disabled by wounds. 

"At length, Decatur was able to single out the treacherous com- 
mander, conspicuous no less by gigantic size, than by the ferocity 
with which he fought, and to meet him face to face. Decatur was 
armed with a cutlass, the Turk with a heavily ironed boarding-pike. 
As the latter made a thrust at Decatur, he struck it violently with 
his cutlas3, in the hope of severing the head ; but his cutlass, coming 
in contact with the iron, broke at the hilt, and left him without a 
weapon. Many a brave man, thus disarmed, might have turned to 
seek another weapon. But Decatur stood his ground; and attempt- 
ing with his right arm to parry the next thrust of his antagonist, re- 
ceived the point of it in his arm and breast Tearing the weapon 
from the wound, he succeeded likewise, by a sudden jerk, in wrest- 
ing it from the hands of his adversary, who immediately grappled 
him; and, after a fierce and prolonged struggle, both fell with vio- 
lence on the deck, Decatur being uppermost. ' During this time, the 
crews, rushing to the aid of their respective commanders, joined in a 
furious combat around their persons. A Tripolitan officer, who had 



396 STEPHEN DECATUR. 

got behind Decatur, aimed an unseen blow at his head, which must 
have decided his fate, had not a young man by the name of Reuben 
James, who had lost the use of both arms by wounds, rushed in, and 
intercepted the descending cimetar with his own head, thus rescuing 
his beloved commander by an act of heroic self-sacrifice which has 
never been surpassed. Haply the wound was not mortal. 

"Just then the Tripolitan, exerting to the uttermost his superior 
strength, succeeded in turning Decatur, and, getting upon him, held 
him to the deck with an iron clutch of his left hand, while thrusting 
his right beside him, he drew from his sash the shorter of the two 
yataghans, which, for the very purpose of such close work, he car- 
ried in the same sheath. The moments of Decatur's existence seem- 
ed numbered; scarce an interval remained to breathe a prayer for 
mercy in another world ; a second brother was about to perish be- 
neath the rage of the fierce Tripolitan. But the cool courage and 
fertile resources of Decatur came to his rescue in this extremity. 
Disengaging his left hand, he caught the right of the Tripolitan, stay- 
ed the yataghan as it was about to drink his blood, and, thrusting his 
own right hand into his pantaloon's pocket, succeeded in cocking a 
pistol, which he had there, and giving it the proper direction, fired. 
The Tripolitan relaxed his hold, and Decatur, disengaging himself 
from the heap of wounded and slain, which the struggle had gather- 
ed around him, stood again that day a victor on the enemy's deck." 

When the last war with England broke out, Decatur, advanced to 
the rank of Commodore, won immortal renown in his celebrated cap- 
ture of the Macedonian, and in his prolonged and heroic defence of 
the President against the enemy's squadron, which, though it result- 
ed in the surrender of the President in view of overwhelming odds, 
was none the less gallant and honorable. These and other brilliant 
exploits have won for Decatur an untarnished and brilliant fame. 
An unhappy controversy between him and Commodore Barrow re- 
sulted in a duel, in which the former received a mortal wound. His 
death plunged the whole country in the deepest despondency, and 
every heart sincerely and intensely mourned the untimely end of this 
universally worshipped and idolized hero. We subjoin an account of 
a few incidents that are related of him : — 

" When Decatur was about fourteen years old, he was returning on 



STEPHEN DECATUR. 397 

a Saturday afternoon, in company with young Hamilton, from a 
fishing excursion, when as he approached his house he observed bis 
mother reproving an intoxicated man standing by, who had struck 
Decatur's younger brother. The man was abusing and reviling his 
mother as Decatur approached, who, dropping his rod and basket on 
the pavement, approached the assailant and said to him, ' Do you 
know who that lady is, sir ? That is my mother ; she must be treat- 
ed with respect!' The man replied that he neither knew nor cared 
who she was. Stephen then said to him, ' If you have any complaint 
to make against my brother, sir, make it to me.' The infuriated man 
giving way to his brutal passion, made a blow at Stephen, who, par- 
rying it, struck back so rigorously, that his antagonist fell with vio - 
lence on the pavement, and was much injured. 

" Not long after this occurrence, he, and some of his associates came 
in contact with a crowd, drawn together by a festive entertainment 
in honor of the minister of the French Republic, by the members of 
a political party, who, in their outrageous zeal for France, and their 
desire that the United States should take part with her in the war 
which she was waging against England became more of Frenchmen 
than Americans. This they manifested by wearing the tri-color, and 
singing Jacobin songs, Decatur and his young companion had on the 
blue cockade of their country, which they habitually wore. Some of 
the more furious of these psuedo-patriots now accosted Stephen as 
he was passing through the crowd, and insisted on his substituting 
the tri-color for his national cockade. He calmly refused, saying to 
those who accosted him, that he did not interfere with their cockades, 
and claimed for himself the privilege of wearing that of his country. 
One of the most forward of the patriots now made a dash at his 
cockade to tear it away. Conscious of right, undismayed by the su- 
perior strength of his assailants, and the number at hand to assist 
him, Stephen gave him a blow. His associates came to his assist- 
ance, and a general battle ensued. Stephen and his comrades were 
in a fair way to be overpowered and despoiled of their cockades, 
when a happy accident brought to his aid a party of his father's ap- 
prentices, stout young gentlemen sailors, who entered the strife with 
the true spirit of blue jackets, and bore their champion off severely 
beaten, but still triumphantly wearing his blue cockade." 



t>9S STEPHEN DECATUR. 

■ Captain Spence describes as follows a little incident that occurred 
on board a frigate, while lying at the West Indies. Captain Spence 
had just been introduced to Decatur, and was so much struck with 
his appearance and demeanor that his attention was riveted to him. 
" On being released," says he, " from a kind of spell by which he had 
rivited my attention, I turned to the gentleman to whom I was in- 
debted for tiie introduction, and inquired the character of Decatur. 
'Sir,' said he, ' Decatur is an officer of uncommon character, of rare 
promise, a man of an age, one perhaps not equalled in a million I' 
< A man overboard !' was now cried through the ship. ' Second cut- 
ters away! third cutters away I' was called from deck to deck. I 
observed Decatur to spring from the mooren chains. I ran to the 
stern. In a few moments, I saw a youth upheld above the surging 
wave by a buoyant and vigorous swimmer, and thus sustained until 
released by the party. Life had nearly fled ; but it was not extinct. 
It was the life of one who has since had celebrity, and lived to see 
his preserver the pride and glory of his country." 

While in the Mediterranean, under Commodore Dale, and lying at 
Syracuse, he " on one occasion, with a companion, was passing in 
the night through one of the narrow streets to reach their boat, when 
himself and friend were attacked by three armed ruffians. They 
drew their swords, and, placing their backs against the wall, defended 
themselves so stoutly, that they succeeded in wounding two of their 
assailants, when the whole three sought safely in flight. One of them 
being pursued into a house, got upon the roof, and, being nearly 
overtaken, precipitated himself to the ground, and perished from the 
fall." 

Mr. Bichard Hush in a letter to Mrs. Decatur, after her husband's 
death, relates the following incidents of Decatur's youth : " It is true, 
that I was your husband's schoolmate, and I remember, as all do, his 
chivalrous and daring spirit in boyhood. Here is one instance. A 
young lad, by name Mc Call, got into a quarrel with him and wanted 
to fight, Decatur refused, on the ground that Mc Call was not a 
match for him, being under size, but said that he would fight him and 
one of his brothers together; and so he fought the two. Take 
another little incident. We used to bathe in the Delaware, near a 
bank called the ' Old Tat,' in the neighborhood of where the navy 



LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 399 

yr.rd now is. Once, while the boys were swimming about, a few 
made for a ship moored to a wharf at hand, that they might dive from 
her side. One of them ran up the bowsprit quite out to the tip end 
of her jib-boom, from which he instantly plunged head foremost into 
the stream. It was Decatur. Shouts arose from the boys, and the 
very sailors may have been amazed, as the ship was large, and the 
height seemed fearful" 



LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 

The life of Louis Philippe, the late king of France, presents a re- 
markable and varied history. He was of the Orleans branch of the 
Bourbon family, and previous to his father's death, bore the title of 
the Duke of Valois, after which event he became the Duke of Orleans. 
His youth was nurtured with a care that admirably fitted him for the 
vicissitudes his after life experienced. He was placed under the care 
of Madame de Genlis, who manifested a high order of intelligence in 
conducting the young prince's education. Not only were all branches 
of science, and of literature inculcated in the minds of the prince, but 
he was instructed in many practical -branches. He was taught gar- 
dening, and under the instruction of a gardener, there was a garden 
laid out which the young prince and his brother, planted and tended 
with their own hands. In their rambles a botanist and chemist at- 
tended them, whose duty it was to instruct them in botany and its 
connexion with medicine. Turning, basket making, weaving, cabi- 
net making, and other mechanical occupations, filled up, happily, 
many of their hours of recreation. The Duke de Valois, assisted by 
his brother, manufactured for the house of a poor woman at St. Len, 
a press and a table with drawers, which were equal to the best that 
could be purchased. They were also taken periodically to the hospi- 
tal, where they were instructed in the art of dressing wounds, &c. 
An education so broad and general as this could not fail to exercise a 
most beneficial influence on his character. 



400 LOUIS PHILL1PPE. 

When the first revolution broke upon France, Louis was an earnest 
advocate for the cause of the people, and when the allied armies ap- 
peared on the frontier threatening an invasion of France, the young 
Duke, then but nineteen years of age. in the capacity of proprietary- 
colonel, hastened to appear among the defenders of his country. In 
the campaign that ensued he won considerable military renown. On 
one occasion while at Vendome, he distinguished himself by an act 
full of courage and humanity. 

"On the 24th of June, 1791, and on the occasion of a Fete-Dieu, 
conducted by a constitutional clergyman, two non-juring priests had 
the temerity to insult the vicar, who carried the holy sacrament. The 
people, under the influence of the prevailing political opinions, and 
infuriated by the foolish affront directed towards their vicar, assem- 
bled and demanded that the offenders should be instantly given to 
their fury. This extravagant act was opposed by the duke singly : 
he rushed into the crowd, extricated the unfortunate priests from the 
assassins, and, by the most extraordinary efforts of personal strength, 
and great presence of mind, succeeded in withdrawing them into a 
place of security. The duke being joined by some of his dragoons, 
who were unarmed, he escorted the clergymen beyond the municipal 
limits. At the distance of a mile they reached a bridge, where they 
found an immense crowd again collected, whose evident determina- 
tion was to throw their intended victims into the deepest part of the 
river. The duke, however, was as resolved upon saving their fives 
as the mob of sacrificing them ; and, when several peasants, armed 
with muskets, advanced with hideous yells, and cries of death! 
death ! finding further entreaty useless, he deliberately advanced, and 
placed himself between the unhappy victims and the carbine of a 
peasant, which was levelled at their breasts. The pause produced by 
this heroic interposition gave the actors a moment to reflect upon 
the barbarity of their intentions ; and, by this means, he succeeded, 
in carrying them off and rescuing them from popular indignation. 

" A second opportunity of adding to his reputation for courage and 
humanity occurred to Louis, only a few days after the rescue of the 
priests. Monsieur Siret, an engineer, fatigued by swimming too long, 
attempted to get upon a rock in the river, near to a deep pool, of 
which he was ignorant, but where several of the townspeople had 



w%%,/ c^ 




LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 403 

previously perished. Being attracted by the current he called out for help, 
and the duke who was about a hundred yards from the spot, hearing 
his cries, flew to his assistance, calling out, ' Courage ! courage, my 
friend; I shall be with you in a moment!' Plunging into the stream, 
he caught the hand of the drowning man, which was still visible 
above the water ; but Siret held the arms of his deliverer, with such 
a tenacious grasp, that he obstructed his efforts, and the whirlpool 
was already engulphing both. At this instant, Edward, a negro ser- 
vant of the prince, leaped into the river, swam to the spot, and seiz- 
ing Siret round the waist, saved him from a watery grave, and re- 
leased his noble master." 

"When the Reign of Terror began to dawn on France, and the 
hatred of the people towards all of noble birth was fearfully on the 
increase, the, now Duke of Chartres, perceived that his own name 
would soon appear among the proscribed, At last an order came for 
himself and General Dumouriez to appear before the Committee of 
Safety. This was considered identical with a death warrant — it was 
obvious their lives were demanded, a price was set upon their heads 
— not a moment was to be lost. They set off immediately for the 
frontier. A batalion met the fugitives on their route and fired upon 
them. " The alarm was given, and this first warning had been nearly 
fatal to the unfortunate objects of proscription, who were endeavor- 
ing to conceal themseles from the death warrant directed against 
them by a committee of public safety. A detachment of dragoons 
was sent in pursuit of them ; and they would have been inevitably 
taken or slain, but for the presence of mind displayed by Baudoin, 
the young duke's groom. 

" The faithful servant, to divert the attention of the dragoons, who 
were pursuing his master, pretended to be wounded, and lay down 
at the roadside, near to a stack of hay, behind which his horse was 
concealed. The squadron came up to him in a few minutes, and 
asked him which way the fugitives had taken, when Baudoin, find- 
ding his stratagem successful, pointed towards a direction the oppo- 
site nearly to that pursued by the prince. The dragoons galloped off 
in search of their victims, while Baudoin, mounting his charger, soon 
overtook his illustrious companion, whose misfortunes he voluntarily 
shared. 



404 Lours PHILLIPPE. 

" Disguised as an English traveller, he pursued his way, while he 
was obliged to take every precaution to preserve his incognito, in 
those very countries which he had traversed as a conqueror. At 
Liege, Aix la-Chapelle and Cologne, he dared not venture to dine at 
the table d'hote, from the danger of recognition." 

He arrived safe at Zurich and joined his exiled family, from which 
place they proceeded to Zug, where they took a small house in a se- 
cluded situation. Here, by taking every precaution to preserve th'eir 
incognitio, they remained in quiet and seclusion for a month, at the 
end of which time some emigrants passing through the town, recog- 
nized them, and betrayed their rank. They were directed to depart, 
and now, in order to ensure to his sister a permanent asylum, the duke 
separated from her, while she petitioned and obtained a retreat in a 
convent in Switzerland. Meanwhile, he resolved to undertake the 
journey of Europe ; and, as he was without funds, he sold his horses, 
with the exception of one, and parting from his friends, accompanied 
only by the faithful Baudoin, he set out on foot from Basle, leading 
by the hand his only horse, on which rode his servant who was so 
indisposed as to be unable to walk. At first the illustrious outlaw 
travelled through the countries of Switzerland, visiting those places 
remarkable in history, or consecrated to the name of liberty. He 
visited Neufchatel, Tellen Blatt, where stands the temple consecrated 
to William Tell, Halsbourg, Grindewold, &c. 

During one of his adventurous excursions in the Alps he applied 
for nourishment at the hospitium of Saint Gothard. A friar ap- 
peared at the casement, and said, " What do you want?" " I request," 
replied the duke, "some nourishment for my companion and myself." 
" My good young man, we do not admit foot passengers here, partic- 
ularly of your description." "But, reverend father, we will pay 
whatever you demand." "No, no I that little inn there is good 
enough for you," added the friar, pointing to a poor shed where some 
mules were partaking of Alpine cheese, and closed the window. 

" Driven from this humble asylum, the duke continued his wan- 
dering life, traveling through the country of the Grisons. He was 
not more fortunate at Gordona than he had been at St. Gothard. 
His costume and his knapsack were the cause of his being denied the 
hospitality which he required. However, the weather being most in- 



LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 405 

clement, and night having come, the hostess reluctantly consented, 
after numerous entreaties, to give the travelers shelter, which con- 
sisted of a bed of straw spread in an out house. Overcome by fa- 
tigue, the prince accepted even this kindness with gratitude, and 
slept soundly until the break of day, when he was awoke by a mo- 
notonous sound of feet passing and re-passing immediately by him, 
and he discovered to his utter astonishment, a young man with a 
gun, on guard beside him. Inquiring the cause of this extraordinary 
precaution — 'It was my aunt,' replied the peasant, 'who placed 
me here, with instructions to kill you, if you attempted to rob us. 
My aunt, you must know, is a miser and mistrustful.' The duke 
smiled at the vain suspicion, released his guard, paid his bill, and 
took leave of his hostess." 

Shortly after this he was offered a professorship in the college of 
Eeichenan, where he remained for eight months, engaged in teaching 
geography, history, mathematics, &c, preserving his incognitio with- 
out suspicion during the entire time. At the end of this time he re- 
ceived the thrilling intelligence that his father had fallen on the scaf- 
fold at Paris, a victim to the ferocity of the populace. " Overwhelmed 
with affliction, he sought relief in change of scene, and carrying with 
him the esteem and regard of his associates, he became once more a 
wanderer, his knapsack hanging from his shoulder, and a staff giving 
additional firmness to his step." Meanwhile, speculation, falsehood 
and intrigue are busy with his name. Hated in France by the re- 
publicans, and in Germany by the aristocrats ; the one, because of 
his birth, the other, because of his early connection with the friends 
of the people ; he is obliged to avoid the persecutions of the latter in 
Germany, and daily to hear of the execration bestowed upon him in 
the land of his birth. But a small though steady party in France still 
dreamed of a constitutional monarchy under the Duke of Orleans, and 
hoped to reclaim him from exile. 

He now resolved to visit the northern countries of Europe. For 
this purpose he proceeded to Copenhagen, thence to Sweden, 
and after visiting many places of note, he went into Norway. In 
these countries he passed unrecognized and unsuspected, and was re- 
ceived everywhere with the greatest hospitality by the simple-hearted 
people. He travelled along the coast of Norway, and visited the 



406 LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 

dangerous whirlpool of Maelstrom. Setting out from Saltdalen, un- 
der the guidance of an Icelander, he visited the most interesting 
scenes in Lapland, and with his companions and conductor, travelled 
amidst the mountains, precipices, and torrents of the frozen land, un- 
til he reached the most northern point of the olden world. " Thus, 
the exiled Duke of Orleans, approached within eighteen degrees of 
the Arctic pole, being five degrees farther north than the only French- 
man who, before his time, had ever penetrated these hyperborean re- 
gions, had attained — Mauperties, sent to measure a degree of the 
meridian under the polar circle, and the poet Reguard, who travelled 
for pleasure and instruction more than a century before. 

" The Duke sojourned for some time in Lapland, examining their 
manners and customs, and conciliated the good will of the people by 
remembering ' to do in Rome as Rome does,' and clothing himself in 
a tunic similar to that worn by them. He was frequently to be 
found in the tents of the Laplanders, an enclosure covered by a vdl- 
mar, wrapped around a few poles, so that the smoke from the fire, 
which is in the middle of the hovel, may escape through an aperture 
in the apex of the conical roof. 

" Crossing Swedish Lapland for the second time on foot, attended 
by several natives, and their reindeer, the duke descended to Torneo, 
at the extremity of the Gulf of Bothnia ; passed thence to Abo, tra- 
versed a part of Finland, and advanced as far as the boundary which 
separates Sweden from Russia. Returning through Sweden, he re- 
passed the sound to Copenhagen, and reached Hamburg in 1796. 
He found his prospects in France in no better condition. The Direc- 
tory were at this time fearful of the prince's presence in Europe, and 
thought their power insecure until he was separated from them by 
an intervening ocean. To accomplish this they proposed, through 
the Duchess his mother, to liberate the Duke's two younger brothers, 
then in confinement at Marseilles, on conditions that all three should 
embark for America." 

The plan was acceded to, and on the 24th of October, 1796, tho 
Duke sailed in " The America" from Hamburg, in the character of a 
Dane, and after a passage of twenty-seven days, he arrived at Phila- 
delphia. Here in February, 1797, he was joined by his two brothers, 
the Duke de Montpensier, and Count Beaujolais. They now set out 



LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 407 

on a journey through the States. They first proceeded to Baltimore, 
and thence to Mount Vernon, "where they were received by Wash- 
ington, with every courtesy and attention. After a delightful so- 
journ with this great man, they started on horseback for Pitts- 
burg. 

On their route they, upon one occasion, arrived at a little inn, which 
annnounced " entertainment for man and horse," although it scarcely 
appeared large enough to contain the group that presented itself for 
admission. Here they were obliged to sleep upon the floor, with 
their feet estended to the fire, — a truly backswood mode of enter- 
tainment, but to a prince of the blood it savored much of adven- 
ture. 

Arriving at Pittsburgh, they proceeded to the waters of the Erie, 
visiting the lakes, Niagara, and other places of notoriety, and at one 
time were the guests of the Seneca Indians. Sometimes they were 
travelling on horseback, at other times on foot, and always being 
incog: they were subjected to all kinds of treatment, and met with va- 
rious incidents. Sometimes they traversed immense forests, over- 
coming great obstacles, and undergoing intense fatigue. After 
travelling through this great Western section, they returned to Phila- 
delphia ; and after a short sojourn in that city, departed on a tour to 
the Eastern States. 

About this time they learned that a law had been passed 
in Prance, banishing all members of the Bourbon family, and 
that their mother had retreated into Spain. They now resolved 
to join her, but to accomplish this great caution was required ; 
and as the securest way, they resolved to go down the rivers 
Ohio and Mississippi to New Orleans, thence take passage to 
Havana, from which place they trusted to reach Spain unmolested 
by French vessels. As they approached the great rivers, finding 
horseback travelling very fatiguing, they procured a stout wagon, by 
which means the journey was pursued with much less labor. One 
day they entered Carlisle, and driving up to a public house, the Duke 
called for corn and had it thrown before the horses, — having first re- 
moved the bits from their mouths, and thrown the headstalls on their 
necks, and then, ascended his wagon. Scarcely was he seated, when 
the horses became frightened, and dashed off at full speed with the 



40S LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 

wagon, running it over a stump, and throwing the Duke out, injuring 
him quite seriously. He had now an opportunity of exercising his 
surgical knowledge upon himself, and bled and dressed his own 
wound.- When this became kuown in the village, the inhabitants .all 
gathered about the tavern, evincing a strong interest in the young 
traveller, and supposing his profession to be obvious, from his skill in 
dressing his wound, they endeavored to induce him to settle in their 
district, holding out strong reasons for so doing. Indeed, Louis 
Phillippe, afterwards King of Prance, was supposed to possess a fool- 
ish obstinacy in not availing himself of the extraordinary advantages 
and lofty position of a country doctor in a country village. 

Having arrived at Pittsburg, they found the river frozen over, but 
in a few days the ice was broken up, and purchasing a keel-boat, 
they commenced the descent of the river, which they accomplished 
without any incident of moment. They arrived in New Orleans, in 
February, 1798. After some weeks delay they embarked in an 
American vessel for Havana. As they were crossing the Gulf of 
Mexico, a frigate appeared under the tri-color flag, which ordered the 
vessel to come to, and a party boarded it. Louis Phillippe was much 
alarmed, but being addressed in English by the boarding officer, he 
was much assured. The frigate proved to be English. Their rank 
was made known, and they were invited to accept a passage to Cuba 
in the frigate. In mounting the deck of the frigate, Louis missed his 
hold and fell into the sea, but being an admirable swimmer, he swam 
around the stern of the frigate, where a boat was lowered to assist 
him, and he reached the deck, sustaining no other inconvenience than 
a thorough wetting. 

Arrived in Havana, they remained there some weeks, until the 
court of Madrid ordered them to depart, Louis Phillippe being ob- 
noxious to Spanish tyranny, because of his friendship to liberty. 
Thus like Lafayette, he was detested by tyrants on the one hand, and 
anarchists on the other, because of his attachment to constitutional 
liberty. The royal princes departed from Cuba, and repaired to the 
English Islands. Not being able to obtain passage to Europe, they 
sailed for New York, and there took regular passage to England, 
where they arrived in 1810. Here Louis Phillippe resided until 
1814, during which time he had the inconceivable sorrow to see his 
two younger brothers sink and die. 



LOUIS PHILLIPPE. 409 

The causes that led to the restoration of the Bourbons are well 
known. When the allied armies entered Paris, the Duke repaired 
thither and assumed the right and control of his estates. He lived 
in dignified retirement until the revolution of 1830. Upon the resto- 
ration of the elder branch of the Bourbon family, they blindly at- 
tempted to restore the old order of things and to establish an absolute 
monarchy upon the ruins of the French Republic. Their measures 
met with the most determined opposition, when in 1830, under the 
reign of Charles X, the public spirit broke out so determinedly, that 
Charles was dethroned, and the Duke of Orleans, in whom the people 
had great confidence, by popular acclamation was called to the head 
of affairs. Soon after he was crowned king, with great rejoicings, 
pledging himself to support the constitutional liberties of the people. 

But his reign was not one of ease. There were republican factions 
who desired to establish a repLfciic, anu factions to restore the elder 
branch of the Bourbons. These distracted his reign, and the more ef- 
fectually to overthrow him, combined in their attacks on his govern- 
ment. So desperate were they that many attempts were made to 
assassinate him. At one time while going in procession to the 
Chambers, a man advanced, pushed in between two soldiers, and 
presenting the muzzle of a pistol within a few yards of his intended 
victim, fired, but fortunately his aim was not good, and the shot did 
not take effect. On another occasion, in July 1835, the occasion of 
the fifth anniversary of the Revolution, when the king was proceed- 
ing with his guard to the scene of festivities, he had just passed the 
gate of the Jardin Turc, a short distance in advance of his staff, when 
a terrible explosion was heard. In an instant the pavement was 
covered with the dead, dying and wounded, and deluged with blood, 
but the king was unhurt — six generals, two colonels, nine officers, 
and part of the guard, with twenty-one citizens, were more or less 
injured, while eleven had fallen lifeless on the spot. A more fearful 
scene could scarcely be imagined, and it filled the whole city with 
terror. One of the balls slightly grazed the forehead of his majesty. 
The originators of this nefarious plan were never discovered. But 
soon after another attempt was made on the king's life. While seat- 
ed in the royal carriage, a man pushed through the crowd, thrust 
forth a cane-gun, which he rested on the frame of the carriage, and 



410 LOUIS PH1LLIPPE. 

fired. Although the wadding remained in his majesty's hair, no in- 
jury was done to his person. Still another attempt was made upon 
his life. While passing through the city in his carriage, the king 
thrust out his head to acknowledge the salute of the National Guard, 
when a pistol was discharged. The ball entered the window, grazed 
the king's breast, passed between the cheek of the Duke of Nemours 
and the head of Prince Joinville, and lodged in one of the carriage 
panels. 

Factions, attempted revolutions, intrigues and conspiracies convul- 
sed his reign. At last in 1848, the vascillating and ever changing 
French people, were again thrown into a revolution, which resulted 
m the overthrow and exile of Louis Phillippe. He lived in England 
until quite recently, when he died, having passed through more vi- 
cissitudes and changes than, perhaps, can be found in the history of 
any other prince. 












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